


Veronica's House of Extremely Loud and Unruly Dead People

by elliot_cant_write



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Gen, Ghost!J.D, Ghost!Kurt, I've never been to a 7-eleven in my life, ghost!Duke, ghost!chandler, ghost!mcnamera, ghost!ram, its fun I promise, lots of death obviously, murder mystery!, veronica sees ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:59:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10641291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliot_cant_write/pseuds/elliot_cant_write
Summary: Veronica has seen ghosts since she was about thirteen and at seventeen, she has acquired a repituar of strange and unique spirit... acquaintances, let's say. But none of them managed to cause as many problems as the dead boy she's bought a slushie for at 7-eleven who then proceeded to follow her home.





	1. Don't feed the weird guy in the trench coat lurcking at 7-eleven

Veronica Sawyer could pin point the exact moment her life hit a turning point. It was in third period English, when Ms. Flemings called her to the office to "discuss her options for college". Which subsequently turned into what Veronica was almost certain was Ms. Flemings calling her boring for not doing any school activities. And then she tried to talk her into joining the creative writing club based on how much she wrote in her diary. Which she then asked to see, effectively crossing the line of what was and was not deemed acceptable in Veronica's eyes. Nobody touched that book, ever. 

Seeing who was regarded as one of the smartest and most vanilla students in the entire school storming out of the councelor's office and then all the way out of the school was easily one of the most exciting things that had happened that week. For Veronica, it actually felt quite nice. The school was horribly overheated and the freezing cold gust of wind that met her as soon as she walked out the door was enough to get it through her brain that holy shit she was walking out of school and holy shit there was no way she could go back in there or she would quite literally never hear the end of it. 

She obviously could not go home; her parents were completely oblivious, sure, but even they would notice when she showed up almost four hours before she was supposed to. 

The colder it got the more Veronica had taken to riding her bike to school in an attempt to potentially look cool, and for once it was actually helpful rather than just leaving her shaking all through first period. She hopped on to her bike, not having a helmet also out of some misguided attempt to look cool, and quickly started peddling aimlessly towards the main part of town. Sherwood, Ohio was a horrifically tiny place but even if you just went in a straight line for awhile you'd eventually find somewhere to go. Or get yourself murdered. Either one seemed equally likely some days.

It was cold as hell and Veronica could not force herself to go any further when she stumbled across the town's only 7-Eleven. The vaguely zombie-ish part of her brain immediately started screaming HEAT and she pulled her bike over, figuring that the kind of person who took the noon shift at the gas station probably wasn't the same kind of person who would report a kid for skipping school. 

She chained up her bike and went into the store, the ding when the door shut sounding strangely comforting against the crappy pop music blaring from the speakers. The store was almost entirely empty, save the skinny tattooed kid working the checkout and somebody Veronica couldn't quite see lurking around by the soda coolers that lined the back wall. Good. The last thing she needed was to run into her father's boss or somebody else who could potentially get this back to her parents. 

Veronica gave the counter guy a quick wave before ducking into the first isle. She ran her finger along the edge of it, humming quietly to herself, before settling on a bag of chips. She had been just about to go find a soda, when a sudden burst of raised voices from the front of the store distracted her.

"I'm sorry, kid," The first voice was deep and gravely and if Veronica was correct in guessing it to be the counter guy, matched its owner exactly. "I agreed that the slushie tab would be a one time thing. Purely out of the kindness of my heart, I've been letting you use it for the past week. But my boss is starting to ask questions and I can't just tell him that some kid guilted me into giving him free drinks."

The second voice was less rough around the edges, but Veronica could feel the anger pouring out of whoever it was. "I promise I'll get you the money soon, just a few more days. I'll even pay extra. Just please let me get one more."

"No!" The counter guy said firmly. "No. You can either pay for your own slushie, or you can leave. I'm not bailing you out any more."

The second person let out a string of very creative swear words before ducking into Veronica's own isle and brushing past her. Whomever it was stopped a few feet from the end and leaned his head against the shelf, shaking slightly.

Veronica weighted her options. She could leave and pretend this all never happened, or she could go try to reason with the obviously very upset figure a few feet away. The first choice was the smart one, but even as she thought that Veronica felt her feet start walking towards the person as if acting completely seperatly from her brain. "Hey," She said cautiously, starting to reach out towards his arm before changing her mind at the last minute. "Are you alright?"

"I'm having a really bad day." He said through gritted teeth and Veronica could almost feel the energy coming off of him. Suddenly, she was very glad she had not touched him. "This was kind of the last straw."

His voice made him sound so much like a kicked puppy and Veronica felt her heart break. No no no no no no no, she mentally berated herself. She was not going to do these things any more; being overly nice to every upset person who came her way was the reason she was officially branded as a push-over to begin with. "If you want, I'll buy you a slushie." And she did it anyway. Good going, Sawyer. 

He seemed to calm down considerably. "Really?"

She had dug her grave; might as well lay in it. "Yeah, really. What's your favourite kind?"

He turned away from the wall and looked at her and Veronica forced herself to not look away from his ridicuously overly intense eyes. "Cherry."

Veronica smiled, trying not to make it look like she was slowly dying inside over her own choices. "Great. I'll go talk to the counter guy."

"His name is Jerry," Mr. Slushie supplied helpfully.

Veronica walked up to the front counter, giving Jerry her best smile. "Hello, sir. I'd like to buy these chips and a medium cherry slushie, please." 

Jerry raised one thin eyebrow. "Do you really want to do this? I know he's charming and all, but once you buy him one he is never going to leave you alone. Ten dollars, by the way."

Veronica handing him ten dollars. "I think I'll take my chances, thanks."

Jerry shrugged, putting the money in the cash register. "Suit yourself." He handed her the extremely bright red drink, seeming to have accepted her choice in fate.

"One red slushie, just as requested." Veronica said, returning to the isle and presenting the boy with plenty of overly dramatic flourish. 

He quickly took the slushie, taking one long sip through the straw and visibly relaxing. "Thank you so much. I promise I'll pay you back."

Veronica waved it off. "Don't worry about it. We'll probably never see each other again anyway." 

He didn't say anything to that, already paying more attention to his drink than what was actually going on around him.

Veronica smiled to herself and left. Yes, he probably didn't deserve a slushie and yes, he was probably never going to pay Jerry back for all the past slushies but Veronica knew that so few people were capable of being good people and she wanted to be one of them so if that took buying slushies for weird guys at convienence stores, so be it.

•

It was a long bike ride back to her house and by the time she actually got there and was able to detangle herself from the figuratively clutches of her parents, Veronica was thoroughly exhausted. She thought she was more than justified in being so; it had been a very long day. 

Veronica ran up the stairs, threw open her door, and flopped onto her bed, the cool sheets feeling nice against her skin in spite the bad weather. 

"You're LATE!"

Veronica, suppressing a groan, rolled over onto her back. "What do you want, Heather?"

Heather Chandler, one of the three dead girls who live down in Veronica's bedroom, floated a few feet off the ground without her arms crossed and a venomous expression on her face. "Where were you?"

Veronica closed her eyes, already anticipating the inevitable headache. "I was at school, Heather. Some of us still have to go there."

Chandler had just opened her mouth, undoubtedly locked and loaded with some biting comment Veronica herself would never have the guts to even think, when a much higher voice cut her off. 

"Ronnie! You're back!"

A mop of very blonde hair flopped into Veronica's face and a loud sqeal came from the tiny girl it was attathed to as Heather McNamara fell from her perch on the ceiling fan. Veronica jumped off her bed as McNamara fell on top of her. Being dead and a ghost and all, she wasn't solid enough for Veronica to actually feel anything but the whole sensation of having somebody who she talked to on a daily basis Pass through her body was still unsettling. 

"Yeah, I'm back. Where's Duke?"

"Over here," a perfectly manicured hand waved from the beanbag chair next to Veronica's parcariously stacked book pile. "I didn't even realise you were gone."

"Thanks, Heather." Veronica shooed McNamara off of her bed. "If the three of you don't mind, I'm going to sleep."

"It's only six o'clock."

"Sleeping!"

Surprisingly given that the three Heathers arguably made up the most unendingly noisy group Veronica's had ever met, everything quieted down within about ten minutes. Veronica, already almost entirely asleep, was just making a mental note to be particularly friendly to them the next day when she heard a familiar voice right next to her head. 

"So, your name's Veronica?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I updated my phone and now autocorrect I still literally the most disfunctional thing I've ever encountered?? So basically if at any point past when Veronica leaves 7-11 there's weird capitalisation or random words or missing words or whatever, please just ignore it until I can get a computer and actually deal with this shit.  
> That being said, thanks for reading my mess! This is my attempt at managing two multi chapter things at once, so let's see how it goes.


	2. Do Not Let Weird Slushie Boy Move Into Your Bedroom

“Holy shit,” Veronica blurted out, instantly awake. She yanked her blanket up all the way to her neck, feeling the ridiculous urge to hide even though at this point it was obviously too late.

The boy from 7-Eleven was standing in her room, at the foot of her bed. 

Honestly, he looked decently harmless. Dark unruly hair, not terribly large frame, and drowning in a too-big coat. But the fact remained that he was in her house when he shouldn’t have been. 

“What are you doing here?” She hissed, looking around for...something. Some window left open that would have explained how he got in. But everything seemed normal. Veronica prayed that he couldn’t hear her heart pounding in her chest. 

He looked vaguely apologetic. “You could see me even when I didn’t want you too.”

The realisation hit her like a freight train. Veronica closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths as her heartbeat slowed closer to normal. “You’re dead?” She and the boy both winced at once. “Sorry, that was so insensitive. I just meet a lot of dead people, you know? Also this was a surprise and, wow, I really am not composed right now.”

The ghostly equivalent of a blush (more shimmery-white than soft-red) overtook the boy’s face and neck. “I did show up in your bedroom uninvited. If anything, I deserve a lot more than some insensitivity.”

Veronica sighed. “No, it’s fine. Trust me, I’ve dealt with a lot of strange interactions over the years. Everyone gets really excited over being seen again, even if only by me.”

“It’s just…” The boy seemed to struggle for words. “I don’t even like people, but it’s still so, you know, lonely.” He fiddled with the sleeve on his coat and Veronica was again struck by how alive the dead always seemed, with very-human habits and emotions. 

Veronica felt the presence in the other corner of the room before she heard the voice.

“Who is that?” Heather Chandler flickered into existence. Her expression was the picture of graceful annoyance, something that Veronica had not even known was a possibility before her less-than-desirable living situation. “And what in the hell is he doing here?

The boy looked at Veronica, uncertainty easily read in his eyes. She sighed even longer than she had before. “That’s Heather; she’s harmless.” 

Chandler flipped her hair over her shoulder, ignoring Veronica’s comment. “I’m waiting.”

“Um, I’m J.D,” His lips curled into a smirk, sticking out a hand which Chandler chose to disregard. “And you are?”

Chandler disregarded that as well, choosing instead to make a noise of disgust and walk abruptly through the wall into Veronica’s closet, likely where Duke and Mcnamara were as well. 

“Don’t worry about her,” Veronica told J.D., who looked slightly overwhelmed. “Chandler’s kind of a bi-” 

She was cut off by a shout from her mother from downstairs. “Veronica! Dinner!”

Veronica was momentarily, irrationally, annoyed that she never got to take her nap. She patted J.D.’s shoulder, shivering slightly when her hand met his not-so-solid form. She never got used to literally passing through the body of someone that she had conversed with. “Just like...go sit down or something. I’ll be back soon. And Heather, Heather, Heather,” She raised her voice to be heard all the way in the closet. “Be nice!” She was met with a loud thump, which she chose to ignore for her own emotional well-being. 

God, she so did not need any more dead people in her bedroom.

•

“We got a very interesting call from your guidance counselor today, Veronica.”

Veronica didn’t look up from her soup, instead dumping her spoon back into her bowl and refilling it, over and over again. “Really? How interesting.”

She could literally feel her parents exchange a look above her head. It was not a nice feeling; the only thing worse than having them outright saying that they thought there was something wrong with her was all three of them being aware that they were thinking it, but nobody actually saying anything. Sometimes it felt like they were playing a horrible game that Veronica was doomed to lose or end herself, by leaving. 

“Please don’t be insolent,” Her mother’s tone was tired and for a second Veronica felt horrible about how much she worried them. “Walking out? Really, Veronica, that’s not like you.” 

Veronica refrained from mentioning that for as hard as her parents tried, they hardly were home enough to know what was and was not like her. But she had to agree; walking out of school was not the kind of behavior even she could expect from herself. “I’m so sorry mom, believe me. It won’t happen again.”

“But why did it happen?” Her father asked. His voice mirrored the tiredness in his wife’s. “Sweetie, we put up with a lot, but this is just a step too far.”

“I was just so,” Veronica tightened her grip on her spoon, glaring at the soup as if it had done something hugely offensive. “Angry at that awful, awful woman. She kept getting on my case about really personal things and I just couldn’t stand there and listen to her for a second longer. So...I left.”

Surprisingly, at that both her parents seemed relieved. Maybe it was simply the knowledge that Veronica did not leave simply because she got sick of going to class, but regardless, Veronica felt so much anxiety lift off of her purely because they did not seem so worried anymore. If they got too worried, she ran the risk of being faced with all sorts of questions that she under no circumstances wanted to answer. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of personal questions was she asking?”

Veronica studied her mother, thinking over her answer. “She was asking about my diary and my friends.”

Her parents exchanged another look. “Veronica, sweetie,” Her mother started, using that terrible sympathetic tone she so often took while speaking to her unfortunately-troublesome daughter. “Are you lonely? It’s just that you never speak about your friends and you never seem to go out much.”

There it was. Questions like that were so hard to answer. How was she to explain to her nice, normal parents that the majority of the people she interacted with were dead? Veronica loved being able to talk to ghosts and would not trade that ability for the world, but sometimes not being able to share it with anyone else felt so horribly alone.

But she could never tell them. So she pasted on an almost comically fake smile and said, “I’m fine, mom. Don’t worry about me. My writing is all the company I need.”

•

After dinner, Veronica retreated to her room. She practically sprinted up the stairs, doing her best to avoid any more on-coming questions. “I’m going to take a shower and then go to bed. Goodnight!” Behind her, she tightly locked the door. 

The second the lock clicked into place, Veronica felt the almost suffocating tension that filled her bedroom. 

The Heathers had come out of her closet and instead taken refuge on her bed. Mcnamara sat perched on the edge, Duke slowly brushing a few tangled out of her hair. Chandler laid across the length of the bed. She was flipping through a magazine, faking casualness, but Veronica could see her eyes flickering up every few seconds to make sure J.D. had not moved.

J.D. was sitting at Veronica’s desk, flipping through one of her notebooks. Suddenly, Veronica was on the Heathers’ side of whatever ghost argument the four of them were having.

“Give me that,” She yanked the notebook out of J.D.’s semi-transparent hand and set it back down on her desk. “If you’re going to be living in my bedroom, you will be abiding by the golden rule. Nobody touches my notebooks.”

J.D. put his hands up in surrender, the smirk he had worn earlier returning. “Sorry, Ronnie. Won’t happen again.”

Veronica refrained from telling him exactly where he could stick his humorous tone purely because of the presence she could feel hovering over her shoulder. “/What/ Duke?”

“What I /wanted/ to tell you,” Duke said, with the air of someone who had been long suffering. She blew some hair out of her eyes. “Is that we don’t want to sleep with him in here.”

“His trenchcoat is creepy,” Mcnamara piped up from where she had been left by Duke, brush still hanging out of her hair. “Can’t he just like, I don’t know, sleep in the bathtub?”

Veronica thought about face-palming but decided that that was more melodramatic than she had it in her to be after the very melodramatic day she was already having. “J.D., do you care to sleep in the bathtub? I’ll give you some blankets. And Chandler doesn’t actually need three pillows.”

J.D. shrugged, and both he and Veronica ignored the shout of indignation from Heather Chandler at the realisation that one of her bright red, fuzzy pillows were being offered up. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

Veronica almost felt relieved. “Fine. Duke, find J.D. a blanket. Chandler, get one of your pillows. Mcnamara…” Veronica paused, looking at the small blonde girl who blinked innocently back. “Just...finish brushing your hair. I’m going to take a shower.”

She had just pulled a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants out of her dresser when she remembered one last thing. “Also, can you four try to get along? Please? Sometimes I worry that maybe the veil between you and my parents isn’t as strong as we think it is and that they actually think all these strange noises are coming from me.”

Her request was met with a plethora of responses, at least one of which was hopefully a confirmation that they wouldn’t cause any issues. Taking that as good enough, Veronica stepped into her bathroom and closed the door behind her. In the quiet, muted white of the bathroom, it felt like there was a bulletproof barrier between her and the people in her bedroom.

God, what had her life come to if taking a shower was this relaxing?

•

Ten minutes later, Veronica pulled on an old Nirvana t-shirt, feeling her soaking wet hair already dripping more water down her back. She brushed her teeth, staring at her reflection in the spattered mirror above her sink. The circles under her eyes were too dark. This figuring-out-her-future thing was really messing with her head. 

She opened the door back into her room, praying that she wouldn’t be walking into what looked like the aftermath of a nuclear bomb. Her luck, for once, worked out; everything was fine. 

J.D. was still sitting in the chair she had left him in, however now he was equipped with a blanket and pillow. He gave her an actual smile, much nicer than his usual smirk. “Hey.”

Veronica, in response, pointed at the bathroom door. “Your ‘bed’ awaits.”

He laughed, jumping up and walking over to the bathroom, dragging a purple blanket Duke had retrieved from God-knows-where behind him. “‘Night.”

“Goodnight,” Veronica said back, but she was the only one. The Heathers had already settled down in the part of her room covered in pillows and blankets. Veronica could tell they weren’t asleep though. Briefly it ran through her mind that maybe she should mention to them that it might be worth it to make an effort to be nice for once, but the idea was fleeting. If everything worked out, J.D. would be out of their hair soon. 

Veronica climbed into her own bed, and she reached across to turn out her desk lamp. She mumbled a ‘goodnight’ which was met with a chorus of “Goodnight, Veronica” from all three girls. Rolling over to face her wall, Veronica tried to force all thoughts of the dead boy sleeping in her bathtub from her mind and go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...it's been awhile.   
> Life kind of got out of control for awhile, with school and then summer classes and all that. But! Now I have a solid update schedule! This will update every other Saturday and on the Saturday I don't update this, I update my Hamilton multichapter thing. It's going to be great. I'm excited.   
> Also, does anyone know how to do italics? I can't figure it out.  
> Thank you so so much to everyone who read/kudosed/commented on last chapter!   
> My tumblr is penguinsarebetterthanpeople if anyone wants to hang out :)


	3. Martha the Library Ghost

Morning came too early, in Veronica’s opinion. She had quite enjoyed not being aware of real life. She had also enjoyed her dream in which she lived inside of Pride and Prejudice. Were period dresses horribly uncomfortable and suffocating? Yes. Did they also look really amazing? Yes. 

Veronica blinked. There was an actual problem at hand, she reminded herself. 

Duke was already awake, having picked up the book of Veronica’s that she had been reading the day before and resumed her favourite position in the bean bag chair. Mcnamara sat next to her, maybe reading the book over her shoulder and maybe sleeping. Chandler was still asleep. She never woke before Veronica left for school. In the years since they showed up, Veronica had become intensely aware of all three of the Heathers’ sleeping routines. What a horrifying piece of knowledge.

J.D., still in the bathtub, was a mystery. 

Was it rude to barge in on the man sleeping in her own bathtub without knocking? Even if he was dead? Veronica figured that the answer was yes. She knocked, softly enough that it would not wake her parents, but loudly enough that it should have woken J.D. if he was still asleep. 

“‘Morning,” J.D. opened the door and Veronica jumped back a few inches, startled by the sudden appearance. Evidently J.D. was a morning person. Good to know. 

“Go wait outside,” Veronica told him, pushing past. “I need to get changed for school.”

“Okay-’’ She shut the door before he could finish. 

•

As it turns out, J.D. was not a morning person. Veronica had left him passed out half on her bed, half hanging precariously over the edge. While yes, she understood that there was something big regarding energies or whatever involved in being dead, it was still unendingly surprising exactly how much ghosts slept. 

Duke and Mcnamara had promised to be nice. Hopefully, the two sleeping parties would hold to that promise as well. 

Veronica had taken her bike to school, deciding that if she walked then she would be late and if she was late then her parents might quite literally stage an intervention. With each passing block, she wanted less and less to be there. 

After everything that had happened the day before, Veronica had some questions she wanted answered. For starters, she wanted to know where the hell J.D. had come from. He was obviously decently modern, and if she had to guess, probably recently deceased. He still seemed very uncertain with his situation. And, Veronica reminded herself, the man at 7-Eleven had been paying off his tab for about a week. All signs pointed to a newly-ghosted man...boy...teenager. Oh God, she didn’t even know how old he was. 

Veronica parked her bike and locked it up, ignoring the whispers and strange looks her other classmates were giving her. She half wanted to scream. Other students had walked out before. She herself had personally witnessed the captain of the academic team get so angry at their algebra II teacher that he had gotten up mid-lecture and gone to sit in the library for the rest of class. To be fair, people had whispered then too. She was pretty sure that she had stared. Maybe thinking that this was going to blow over was too much to expect. 

She swallowed, trying to ignore that she kind of wanted to cry or throw up or go home, and went to first period.

•

Ms. Fleming had practically run to avoid Veronica on her way out the door after seventh period and Veronica felt vaguely proud of herself. 

She had decided that the best course of action to take was to go to the library after school. She had a fondness for the library regardless, but the record of local and national newspapers was amazing and had been helpful the last time she needed to find out about someone’s death. And, a certain person who resided there was always eager to assist. 

“Hey, Martha,” Veronica ducked behind the Young Adult section and immediately was faced by a very cute girl with a pink sweater and glasses. “How’s things?”

“Veronica!” The girl, Martha, leaped to hug her, but mostly ended up passing through her body. Veronica forced herself not to shudder from the cold shock, instead laughing. 

Martha had been the first ghost that she had ever come into contact with. Veronica and her parents had just moved to the area. The library was the only one within miles and her mother had dropped her off there while she went shopping. Veronica had been left with nothing else to do for the better part of an hour. She had exhausted exploring and was going to go sit down in one of the bean bag chairs, when she walked through a person. She screamed. The person she walked through screamed. The librarian came and screamed at Veronica. It took a lot of (slightly scary) back and forth for Veronica to determine the following:

The person who she walked through was named Martha, and she was dead.

Martha was also very nice and probably wasn’t going to hurt her.

Veronica could see dead people.

Veronica was going to help Martha figure out she had died.

They had taken full advantage of the large newspaper collection and by the time Veronica’s mother came back to pick her up, they had determined that Martha had been killed in a car crash at the intersection outside the library. Martha and Veronica had been best friends ever since. 

“It’s so good to see you!” Martha beamed at Veronica. “I thought you weren’t going to come visit again until the weekend?”

Veronica laughed nervously, twirling her hair around her finger. “I actually need your help with something.”

Martha’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “Did you find somebody else?”

Veronica nodded. “His name is J.D. I found him at 7-Eleven and now he lives in my bathroom.” In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that the other library visitors could likely hear her. She hoped that they all assumed she was referring to a dog. Sometimes she liked to pretend that she was. Rescuing dogs was a nice, normal thing to do. Rescuing dead boys was not.

“You want to go through the papers?” Martha guessed, already inching to where they were filed. At Veronica’s nod, she took off, not caring to avoid walking through anyone. 

Veronica, not having the luxury of being intangible, was forced to awkwardly shuffle past people and apologise every time she stepped on somebody else’s foot. By the time she got back to the newspapers, Martha had already gotten out the stack of papers from the past year. 

“Do you think that we’ll need to go back further?” She asked, splitting the pile into two and passing one stack to Veronica. “Also, when you come over during the weekend, can we watch a movie?”

Veronica nodded, confirming both Martha’s first and second questions. “What do you want to watch? I’ll make sure I bring whatever it is with me.”

“Can we watch The Princess Bride?” Martha asked shyly, and Veronica cracked a smile.

“Of course.”

•

“Hey, Veronica, look at this.”

Veronica’s eyes snapped up from where she had been reading what had to have been her fortieth paper in a row. “What is it?” Internally, she hoped to every deity in every religion she could think of that Martha had found something worthwhile. Her eyes burned horribly and even though she only had five or so papers left, she was really looking forward to being done. Research that resulted in results was fun. Research that resulted in absolutely nothing was literally hell. 

“You know Heather Chandler, right?” Martha held up one of the more recent papers. “One of the drama team’s productions was dedicated to her. I guess she was involved with it before...you know.”

Veronica felt her heart sink, but she took the paper regardless and briefly scanned it over. “I’ll have to tell her.”

“I’m sorry that we didn’t find anything,” Martha said, sadness threading her voice. “I know you really wanted to.”

Veronica couldn’t help feeling guilty. Martha was amazingly helpful and didn’t deserve to think otherwise. “It’s hardly your fault. I’ll have to ask him tonight what his full name is. We can scan through again this weekend.”

“After The Princess Bride?” Martha asked hopefully and Veronica smiled widely at her friend.

“Yes, after The Princess Bride. Anyway,” Veronica began to pack up the papers. “It’s getting late and I doubt that my parents would believe that I’m out of the house for much longer and not like...committing a crime.”

Martha giggled, picking at one of the stickers some kid had stuck on the library table. It was fascinating, Veronica thought, how the dead could interact with the world around them. She had noticed it almost instantly; even though they could spend all the time they wanted hurling pillows or picking at stickers, they instantly passed through anyone alive. 

Maybe, she mused as she walked out of the library, it was because the other objects were static. Maybe because the dead would never change, they couldn’t interact with anything dynamic. But who could ever know for sure? Veronica had long since stopped trying to understand the world that she alone lived in.

•

When she got back to her room, Veronica walked in on, of all things, Heather Mcnamara painting J.D.’s nails. Instantly her mind almost completely emptied, filling only with the phrase ‘what the hell’ running through it over and over again. 

“It’s disgusting, I know,” Heather Chandler said crossly, materialising beside Veronica. “I told her to avoid him and what does she do? Pulls out the black nail polish, which is the worst colour and I don’t even know why you have it, and just starts painting his nails. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. And I’m already dead.”

Veronica rolled her eyes, making sure that Chandler could see. “Don’t be such a killjoy. I know you hate everyone who comes into this room, but relax. Seriously. J.D. seems harmless.”

Chandler shot her a withering look before storming off, and Veronica momentarily considered apologising. When Chandler slammed the bedroom door on the way out, she promptly reconsidered. 

“Hi, Ronnie!” Mcnamara had looked up when the door slammed, her attention drawn away from J.D.’s nails. She glanced at the window, where it was already beginning to get dark. “It’s later than normal, right?” She sounded really unsure, and Veronica felt kind of bad. She knew that the Heathers had a hard time keeping track of time when she wasn’t there; she really should have stopped home before going. Or at least mentioned her plans in advance. 

She shook that off. What was up with her as of late? She and most of the dead people in her life had an understanding to coexist. Nothing more. 

“I stopped at the library for a while,” Veronica said, sitting down by J.D. “What are the two of you up to?”

Mcnamara held up J.D.’s hand. “He’s never had his nails painted before, so I’m amending that. Even though,” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Heather is really angry. Try not to make her yell.”

Veronica withheld an eyeroll, simply for the purpose of not upsetting Mcnamara. “Will do. I actually need to talk to J.D., if you don’t mind.” Mcnamara's face fell so she quickly added, “If you can find a good colour, you can paint my nails too.”

That immediately brightened her disposition, and she bounded off to find more nail polish.

Veronica turned to J.D., all business. She took out a notebook and pen. “I have some questions for you. Serious questions.”

J.D. leaned back in his chair, crooked grin returning. Way less business-y. “Ask away.”

She narrowed her eyes. “When did you realise you were dead?”

“When I went to elbow some asshole who stopped walking directly in front of me and my elbow went through him.”

“How long ago was this?”

“A few weeks? I’m not exactly sure.”

“Where were you?”

“...Some street.”

Veronica took note of his hesitation, but didn’t comment on it. “Did the street have a name?”

“I don’t remember.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“How did you get the 7-Eleven cashier to see you?”

“Intense concentration.”

“Why 7-Eleven?”

“Why writing?”

“Point taken,” Veronica muttered. She clicked her pen a few times before asking the next question. “What is your full name?”

J.D. instantly closed off. The transformation was amazing. He went from insolent, but vaguely friendly and relaxed, to angry and far from approachable. His entire face seemed more shadowed than it had before. “Next question.”

Veronica chewed on her lip. She wanted to respect his boundaries, really, but this was the most important question she had. She could never figure out how he died if he wouldn’t tell her this. “What’s your full name?”

He scowled. “I said, next question.”

“C’mon, J.D.,” She pressed. “Whatever it is that you don’t want me to find out, I promise it won’t be as big of a deal as you think it is.”

“No!” J.D. abruptly raised his voice. He seemed to grow, a trick that Veronica had witnessed in a few ghosts before. Realistically, she knew that he hadn’t changed in size at all, but the effect was intimidating nonetheless. “I...I can’t tell you that.”

Veronica forced herself not to react. If she reacted, he would only take it as weakness. “J.D., calm down. I won’t force it out of you. Just...calm down. Deal?”

She met J.D.’s eyes, seeing intense anger layered upon what looked like panic. He shook his head, and suddenly she couldn’t read him at all. Veronica didn’t say anything as he got up, and stormed back to where he had taken refuge in her bathroom.

Heather Chandler appeared again. “I told her to stay away from him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter almost didn't happen. I normally finish each chapter around Wednesday, but this one I literally finished within the last five minutes. To be fair, I didn't start it until Tuesday because I spent most of my weekend mourning The Great Comet.   
> Anyway yeah, Martha's here now! I have no idea if I characterized her well, but at least she's here.  
> Thank you do much to everyone who's read, commeted, kudosed, etc!


	4. In And Around The LockerRooms

When Veronica woke up the next morning, the bathroom door was open and J.D. was gone. Honestly, she could not say that she was completely disappointed.

To add to the list of other oddities that morning, Heather Chandler was awake. She had taken over Veronica’s desk, doodling on the pages of some magazine. When Veronica sat up, Chandler gave her a glance. “You have the ugliest sleeping face I have ever been forced to look at.”

“Thanks, Heather,” Veronica yawned. “Why are you even awake? I thought that you, and this is a direct quote by the way, ‘refrained from awakening until I had left as to avoid having your day ruined by forced interaction’?”

“And trust me, this is a sacrifice I hate to make.” Heather shut the magazine and turned to face Veronica properly. “We need to talk.”

Veronica yawned again. “Can’t this wait until I shower? And am, you know, actually awake?”

“No.” Heather said simply. “I want to talk to you before Heather and Heather wake up. They’ll only get in the way.” She stood up, tossed her foot-or-so of blonde hair, and sat down on Veronica’s bed. It was an unusual display of civilness, but Veronica did not miss the disgusted look on Heather’s face as she pulled her knees up to her chest. “And they don’t think that I should tell you.”

Veronica’s interest was effectively grabbed. The Heathers fought endlessly, sure, but they rarely did anything without the consent of all three. They were strangely co-dependent. If Chandler was going completely against what Duke and Mcnamara wanted, it was likely something big. She rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. “In that case, tell me everything.”

Chandler seemed hesitant and Veronica was weirdly and abruptly reminded of those scenes in bad teen movies where the girls at the sleepovers would whisper of their secrets. Veronica had never had one of those conversations, much less one of those sleepovers. This was new territory for her, although she doubted it was for Chandler. Duke had mentioned once that the Heathers had weekly sleepovers in middle school, something which Veronica could picture perfectly. 

“C’mon,” She said, leaning slightly closer. “Now you have to tell me. You’ve built this up. I’m intrigued.”

“Don’t act so childish.” Chandler snapped. “This isn’t so silly, childish secret-sharing, or whatever you think it is-” Veronica smirked, if only she knew, “-this is important.” She glanced one more time to where Duke and Mcnamara were asleep before continuing. “It’s J.D. He’s dangerous.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow. “If this is about last night, it’s actually quite normal for a ghost, sometimes, to explode like that when pressed.”

“It’s not that,” Chandler seemed to struggle with something. “He’s...just, don’t trust him.”

This was a chance to learn more information, a chance Veronica would not let slip past if it killed her. “Why?”

“God, can you leave nothing alone?” Heather said. She gave Veronica a look as if she found something about her particularly distasteful. “Don’t trust the asshole who blew up at you because you asked what his full name is. Why is that so hard to understand?”

“You can’t just tell me not to trust somebody we barely know and not say why.” Veronica argued. “That’s the equivalent of...hating somebody upon being introduced to them.” She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you already knew him. You did, didn’t you?”

Chandler stood up, all traces of civility gone. “That’s enough, Veronica. I know what you’re trying to do, but you won’t be getting any information out of me.”

•

Westerburg High School had it’s fair share of legends and fairytales. There were the ones you found in every school, stories of secret underground rooms, that one teacher who everyone thought was either a vampire or living under a fake name. Normal things. Then there were the ones unique to Westerburg. Most importantly, the two football players who haunted in-and-around the locker rooms.

After school, when most of the students were gone and most of those still milling around were too drugged out to care what she did, Veronica made her way around the back of the school, to where the locker rooms let out to the track. “Kurt! Ram! Are you guys out here?” Receiving no answer, she rolled her eyes. God, she was going to have to go inside, wasn’t she?

If she was to be honest, Veronica would have to say that the story of Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney was one of Westerburg’s less proud moments. It was certainly very dark and vaguely offensive in the way that it spread. She had her own personal theory; if somebody was dead for more than a few months, suddenly everyone felt they had the authority to make up whatever they pleased about them. Or maybe it was all true. Who could truly tell?

There were more than a few stories of how exactly Kurt and Ram died, but by far the most widespread one was that they killed themselves in some sort of homosexual suicide pact. Veronica was inclined to call BS on that, but she never asked. She was kind of scared to find out what had actually happened. Probably something way less pleasant than that.

“Veroooonnniiiicaaa.”

Veronica nearly jumped out of her skin upon hearing her name stretched out right next to her ear. “Jesus Christ, Kurt.”

Kurt and Ram materialised on opposite sides of her, smirking identically. Veronica was at once forcefully made aware of how much they towered over her. Not in the brief, sparked by anger, way J.D. had the night before. They were just tall.

“Have you finally taken up on our offer?” Ram asked, raising his eyebrows up and down, making Veronica shudder.

“Don’t kid yourself.” Veronica retorted. “I’m here on strictly business.” She reached around for her backpack, pulling out a notebook and pen. “Can the two of you answer some questions for me?”

Both boys rolled their eyes. Veronica, choosing not to take the mature angle, rolled hers back. Nothing about this was particularly unusual; they had an agreement that Veronica wouldn’t do something to force them to leave people alone if they helped her, but no part of the agreement made any mention of being pleasent about it.

Kurt made some vague hand gesture. “Ask away. I’m not in the mood to be banished today.”

“I don’t banish,” Veronica mumbled. She uncapped her pen. “Do you know anyone named J.D.?”

“Sweetie, you have to be more specific than that.” Ram said. “There are loads of students here whose names we don’t know. Give us some specifics.”

Veronica nodded. That was reasonable, right? “He’s around average height. Dark hair, dark eyes. Always seems pissed off.”

Kurt and Ram exchanged a look. “Still, applies to like a third of the student body.”

“Wears a too-big trench coat?” Veronica tried. She was flooded with relief when both of their eyes lit up.

“We know Trench-Coat.” Kurt confirmed. He leaned back, the picture of nonchalant arrogance. “What’s in it for us?”

“Is letting you stay here really not enough?” Veronica complained, even though ultimately she already knew the answer. “I can probably get you some cigarettes. Or something of that kind.”

Kurt and Ram exchanged another look. “Something of that kind.” They mimicked, voices blending together in a way that Veronica found to be absolutely grating.

“Trench-Coat’s been hanging around here for like what, three months? I’m pretty sure he goes here.” Kurt started, but he and Ram kept switching off every sentence or so, in a way that Veronica found impossibly distracting as she tried to take notes.

“Yeah, he had to go here, because he seemed to know security. They didn’t kick him out or anything.”

“He was always back here just moping around. I saw him with a book once. It was depressing.”

“Ew, Kurt is right, he was depressing to watch. I think he was gay.”

Veronica didn’t comment on that. Ram continued.

“He disappeared like two weeks ago. Just didn’t show up one day."

“Nobody seemed to notice anything."

“We figured he got kicked out.”

“Kurt thought he got kicked out.” Ram said. “I thought that if somebody got kicked out, we would have heard about it. Like when we heard about you walking out the other day.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Veronica felt vaguely corrupted. “Care to explain that?"

“Can we please remain on topic?” Veronica asked, annoyance lacing her voice. “If you cooperate, I’ll consider telling you of my exploits. Now please, Ram, where do you think he went?”

Ram shrugged. “I figured he moved. If he got kicked out, people would talk. If he dropped out, people would talk. If he vanished, people would talk.”

“But people move all the time.” She finished for him. “That actually makes a lot of sense. Students move all the time and from what I understand, J.D. - sorry, Trench-Coat - wasn’t particularly social, so not many people would care.”

“I still think that he got kicked out.” Kurt said, very set in his point. “He seems like the arsonist type.”

“That’s great, Kurt, really.” Veronica said. “But do you two know anything else for sure?”

Both shook their heads. “We didn’t really care that much about him.”

“You’re both impossible,” Veronica capped her pen. “Thanks for the information. I’ll try to get you some cigarettes. Bye!”

“WAIT!” Ram shouted after her. “You said that you would tell us why you left.”

“I said I’d consider it.” Veronica called back. Because honestly, who wanted to speak to the two of them for longer than necessary?

•

Veronica’s parents were both looking at her with those expressions. The kind that was supposed to be encouraging but only turned out to be vaguely sympathetic and really condescending. Family dinners at the Sawyer household generally managed to hold the same two characteristics.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been coming home later the past few days, sweetie,” Her mother said, cutting up a piece of chicken with her knife. “Have you joined a club?”

Her father’s eyes lit up. “I’ve been telling you that I really think you should join the volleyball team.”

Veronica refrained from pointing out that she had hardly an athletic bone in her body, and even if she did, volleyball would be far down on the list of sports she would consider. “No, no club. I’ve actually been working on a project.” She saw both her parents exchange a disappointed look, so she quickly continued. “It’s a partner project. For my Comparative Government class. I’m working with this girl, Martha. We’ve been meeting at the library.” Inside, she smiled. Sometimes the best lies were heavily, heavily based in reality.

“That’s wonderful!” Her mother said, for the first time in ages giving Veronica a legitimate smile. “Is she nice?” At Veronica’s nod, she continued. “If you ever want, feel free to ask her back here. I can make lemonade!”

Veronica forced a real smile. She was letting her mother have that hope, even though in no way shape or form was Martha going to be stopping by for a visit any time soon. “I’ll let her know.”

Her father started asking about the project itself, which turned into a huge discussion of the equality, or lack thereof, in the American legal system, which subsequently took up the rest of dinner. 

Afterwards, Veronica helped her mother wash the dishes. Right before she went upstairs to do homework, she stopped her.

“I’m really happy you’ve made a friend,” She said warmly before pulling Veronica into a hug.

“Thanks, mom.” Veronica hugged her back before pulling away. “‘Night.” She started up the stairs, in an inexplicably good mood. It was a second before she realised why.

It felt nice for them to be proud of her for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp here we are. the introduction of my least favourite characters.   
> anyway i have an audition in less than an hour and i'm totally going to forget about this afterwards, so this is being posted early today.   
> anyway, now we know a tiny bit more about JD! next chapters going to be a fun one.   
> thank you all so much for reading!


	5. Wow We All Know Things Now

To be honest, at first Veronica thought it was Heather Duke.

Macnamara's voice was way too high. Her’s was easily recognisable in the group, and Veronica would have known it in a heartbeat. And there’s no way in hell Chandler would let Veronica hear anything.

Duke seemed like the most likely to be the person crying quietly.

Veronica climbed out of bed, her feet searching the floor before sliding into her slippers. The clock flashing on her nightstand read 2:14, and Veronica groaned internally. She had to wake up early; whatever this was, it had better be significant. 

She crossed her room to where Duke always slept, curled up on a fluffy blanket with a pillow, and found her...quiet. Completely engulfed in sleep. 

Veronica rolled back on her heels. If this wasn’t Mcnamara, wasn’t Chandler, and wasn’t Duke, then who was it? She inhaled rapidly, as the realisation hit her like a freight train. Oh /fuck/. 

She crept back across her room, careful to avoid waking any of the girls. J.D. wasn’t her friend, or whatever it was that the rest of them were to her. In addition, Chandler had specifically told her to avoid him, clearly with a reason. Did she have to make sure he was alright, purely because he had taken up residence in her bathroom? The side of her brain that worked based in only logic said no. The side of her brain that was responsible for buying him a slushie and starting this whole mess said yes. 

She opened the door, wincing as the hinges screamed. Had they always been that loud, or was it just because it was late and she was trying to be quiet?

J.D., somehow, was still asleep. He was moving around and making so much noise, but his eyes were still shut.

“J.D.!” Veronica hissed, trying to shake his arm and swearing when her hand just passed through. Why couldn’t she be stalked by vampires, or something else that was solid? Why did it have to be ghosts? “Seriously, J.D., I do not have time for this crap right now.”

He didn’t respond. Veronica eyed the pillow his head rested on. This was going to...not be fun. She yanked the pillow out. 

J.D.’s head slammed back into the bathtub with a loud crack and fast as lightning, he shot up. “Oh-h my god-d.”

“Sorry.” Veronica said, trying her best to sound sincere. “You were dreaming, or something.” 

“Or something.” J.D. repeated. “Are-are you here for a reason?” His voice was shaky. Veronica decided that she wasn’t leaving.

“What were you dreaming about?” She asked. She moved her legs so that they were crossed like a child’s and leaned her chin on the edge of the tub. “And don’t give me that look; telling can only make things better. Trust me.” 

“I don’t trust people.” J.D. mumbled. He sat up properly. “Especially not people I hardly know.”

Veronica forced herself not to snap at him. He was dead, she reminded herself, and likely not from a particularly pretty incident. He deserved a little insolence. “When I was in second grade, I wanted to be a time traveler.”

J.D. gave her a bewildered look. “What?”

“I liked history and wanted to experience it for myself, you know?” Veronica continued. “You should have seen the look on my mother’s face when she saw the bulletin board my teacher had made where we all listed our desired career. All of the other little kids had said that they want to be a teacher, or a doctor, or a real estate agent, and then her daughter wanted to be a time traveler. She looked like she wanted to drop dead on the spot.”

“What are you talking about?” J.D. asked.

“We’re getting to know one another.” Veronica said. “Tell me something about you.”

“No.”

“Yes.” 

He looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but he seemed to realise that she wasn’t going to relent. “When I was in first grade, I got sent to the principal’s office because I told my teacher that I wanted to be an assassin.”

Veronica couldn’t help it; she laughed.

J.D. looked vaguely offended. “I hardly knew what an assassin was. I just thought it sounded badass.”

“That’s adorable.” Veronica said. “I never said anything that scary, thank God. Oh, I did have my super edgy seventh grade phase, where I only listened to My Chemical Romance and read the most dramatic of poetry. And wrote the most dramatic of poetry. All quite fun, I assure you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with dramatic poetry.” J.D. shrugged, and Veronica got the feeling that J.D. had encountered his fair share of it. “I mean, we all end up reading Byron, don’t we?”

“Point taken.” Veronica amended. “My favourite colour is blue.”

“Mine is black.”

“It would be.”

“...Shut up.”

“When I was twelve I had a pet hamster named Snuffles, but the neighbor’s cat got him.”

“Once I had a cat, but my dad left the window open and she escaped.”

“Oh, I am 100% a cat person.”

“So am I. I think.”

“I went on a school trip to Niagra Falls and nearly fell over the edge because some asshole decided it would be funny to trip me.”

“I had a school trip to D.C. once and spent the better part of the seven hour drive horribly car sick.”

“I won a writing competition in eighth grade after submitting a short story I wrote in half an hour during first period the day it was due because i had gotten sick of my concept the night before and thrown everything out.”

“My art teacher told me I should enter a competition so I drew a piece on the wall behind my seat.”

“Like two weeks ago I found plans of my parent’s to go to Hawaii. Two tickets. Pretty sure I’m not invited.”

“A month or so ago, I found three bodies my father had hidden in our basement.”

Any warmth in the room was instantly drained out and Veronica sucked in a breath. 

J.D. buried his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.” 

Veronica reached out to touch his arm, before remembering that she couldn’t. “J.D., please. Tell me.” She felt awful, like she was taking advantage of him, but she needed to know, didn’t she?

“He had been acting weird for awhile.” J.D. said, speaking so softly that Veronica had to lean forward to hear. “I mean, he’s been weird since my mom died. Always obsessed with destroying things. But I kind of just figured it was an unconventional way of dealing with things. I mean, I drink slushies to get over the death of my only decent parent. Can I judge anyone?

“But he abruptly got really secretive a few weeks after we moved here. We moved around all the time, but for some reason he was acting like this was the end of that, and I was really...not so much happy, but relieved. But he wouldn’t talk to me. We were never particularly close, but he started spending all of his time down in the basement - he had set up an office in the basement - and refused to tell me anything about what he was doing.” J.D. looked at Veronica miserably. “Was I stupid for not realising? He wasn’t exactly subtle.”

She shook her head. “You’re not stupid. And we all see things more clearly from the future.”

“I just…” He seemed to struggle with something. “It shouldn’t have taken me looking in the basement while he was out one day and literally stumbling upon the bodies. There were three of them, girls I think. They looked young. My age.”

Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit. Veronica’s eyes widened. She had been unable to get information out of the Heathers for ages. This was a breakthrough. 

“I-I brought it up to him,” J.D. still seemed terrified, as if at any second Veronica was going to change her mind and blame everything on him. “I thought that there had to be some kind of other explanation, I don’t know what, but anything other than that he put them there. But he freaked out on me. Screaming and…” His voice cracked. “I don’t remember anything else.”

Veronica could piece the rest of the story together by herself. The dead never remembered the exact moment of their death. It was why research was so important, and sometimes so hard. “That’s fine, really. You’re doing amazing.”

J.D.’s eyes flashed angrily, reminding Veronica of the last time she had tried to get information out of him. “Stop it. I know what you’re doing.” His certainty seemed to waver again for a second or two. “I’ll tell you my name though. I mean, I’ve told you everything else. It’s Jason. Uh- Jason Dean.” He almost looked relieved to finally get it out there, and Veronica was at that point beginning to feel the same way. 

She sighed, leaning back against the cabinet lining the wall across from him. “Thank you so much.”

“Is that everything you needed to know?” J.D. asked. He fiddled with the sleeve of his trenchcoat. “I think I would be useless if you needed anything else.” 

Veronica glanced at the digital clock on the counter. It read 5:24. “Yeah, you’ve answered everything. I think we’re going to need to sit down and have a conversation with the Heathers.

J.D. looked terrified. 

•

They were all sitting in more or less of a circle. Veronica and Duke were sitting on the bed, Mcnamara and Chandler on the beanbag pillows, and J.D. at the desk chair. 

“Okay,” Veronica clasped her hands together. “Heather, all three of you, this is important and I need you to be as honest as you possibly can.”

“What about him?” Duke glared distastefully at J.D. across the room. He ducked his head down in response. 

“J.D. and I have already spoken.” Veronica told her, trying to make it clear in her voice that that was all that was to be said on the matter. How successful she was in that effort was up for debate, as Duke immediately opened her mouth again. “Besides, this is more about the three of you.”

“Are you mad at us?” Mcnamara asked, wringing her fingers. “Because I told Heather not to be mean to J.D.”

“I’m not mad at either of you.” Veronica confirmed. “I just...I need to know why you don’t want me to trust him.”

“Oh,” Mcnamara looked nervously over at Chandler. “I don’t know if I can tell you.”

“You can’t.” Chandler snapped. She glared at Veronica, eyes flaming. “I fail to see why this is any of your concern.”

Veronica knew that frustration was beginning to break into her voice but couldn’t stop it. “Heather, I have explained this to you countless times. I can’t help any of you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“It’s none of your concern!”

“Jesus christ, Heather,” Duke finally cut in. “Keeping it from her is frivolous. Don’t you want to get out of here one day?” She repositioned herself so that she was facing Veronica instead. “Heather told you to avoid J.D. because she knows that he’s the son of the man who killed the three of us.”

“Heather!” Chandler said angrily. “I specifically told you we were going to deal with this incident within ourselves.” J.D sunk farther down into his seat. 

“And how well is that working out for us, Heather?” Duke said. “Veronica knows what she’s doing.”

“I just don’t want to have to deal with this again.” Chandler’s voice broke at the end, and suddenly all of the yelling halted. The silence that suddenly appeared was tense, thick with nervous energy coming from all sides. 

“He did the same thing to me.” J.D. said quietly, finally speaking for the first time within the entire conversation. “Because I found out. I’m so sorry.”

Somehow, that calmed everyone considerably. Chandler seemed less angry, Duke less exasperated, and Mcnamara less scared. 

Veronica put her hand on Duke’s shoulder, which was solid with her still-high energy. “I can help you with this. We can find out where he is.”

Duke nodded, determined. “Where do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like my actual inability to write really came through this week. Great time I'm having.  
> ANyway, I've been waiting on this chapter for literally forever. And this is also the half-way point.  
> I've been trying to get back into Heathers as of late, but it's mostly just making me nervous about my characterisation. I'd forgotten how good some of the songs are though.  
> Thank you all so much for reading, kudosing, commenting, etc! Happy October!


	6. Back to the Library We go

Everyone was exhaus ted, but they made progress. 

“I don’t know what he said after...what happened.” J.D. said, pulling his knees up to his chest. They were all on the floor, Veronica taking notes as the conversation progressed. “I didn’t really want to.”

“I imagine he had to say something, right?” Duke asked. She had pulled her hair up into a neon pink scrunchie that everyone was mostly positive belonged to Chandler. “I mean, a kid can’t just stop showing up to school without some questions being asked.”

J.D. rolled his eyes. “Maybe some people would care if you disappeared, but I don’t think the same courtesy would be extended to me.”

“Let’s remain civil, shall we?” Veronica doodled on the corner of her paper. “J.D., I think now that I have your name, it should be a lot easier to get some research done. My friend Martha - she’s a ghost too - and I can head over to the library later and try to find any missing person articles or something to that general effect.”

“Glad I’m not you,” Chandler said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I paid people to do my research for me even when I was in school, and what’s the point of death if you have to start actually doing work for yourself?”

Ignoring Heather, J.D. turned to Veronica. “Can I come?”

Veronica raised her eyebrows. “You want to come do research with Martha and I?”

He shrugged. “It would be nice to get to go out. It’s been awhile, you know?”

At that, Mcnamara jumped up. “I want to come too! We never get to go anywhere.”

Chandler looked put out. “What is this, an elementary school field trip? Duke, you’re on my side, are you not?”

Duke, normally the perfect picture of indifference, almost looked excited. “I would like to pick out some books of my own.”

All four of them turned to look at Veronica, who found herself answering against all good judgment. “I suppose a field trip isn’t that awful of an idea.”

Mcnamara cheered, throwing an arm over Duke’s shoulder and the other over J.D.’s “We won!” 

“God, you’re so immature,” Chandler said, but Veronica could tell that she was trying extremely hard not to smile. 

Veronica stood up. “I’m going to go tell my parents I’m going to the library. Be ready in ten minutes or so.”

•

“Veronica, we’ve all lived together for awhile, and I feel like I’ve shared a decent amount with you about myself. So can you honestly say that you are unaware of exactly how much I despise public transportation?”

“Jesus Christ, Heather,” Veronica said quietly, trying to keep her mouth from moving too much. “Do you ever quit complaining?” Chandler flicked her in the back of the head. “Hey!”

The bus, thankfully, had been mostly empty when Veronica, three Heathers, and a J.D. boarded to go to the library. Which was good, as Veronica was the tiniest bit afraid that people would see her ‘talking to herself’ and that somehow that information would get back to her parents and that she’d somehow have to find an explanation for that. Then they would send her back to the therapist she had seen in seventh grade and Veronica was honestly not sure if she could deal with that again. 

“Give it a rest, Heather,” Duke sighed. “We all know you’re just peeved because you didn’t get your way.”

Chandler looked uneasily at the bright blue piece of gum on the seat next to her and pulled her skirt farther from it. “Think whatever you want, Heather. This is disgusting.”

“I’m just glad we’re going out!” Mcnamara piped up. She was sitting in front of Veronica, along with J.D.. Mcnamara had given J.D. the window seat, only to continuously lean over him to look out as she saw a dog, or a little kid, or what may have been a squirrel but was just as likely a loose plastic bag. If the disgruntled look on J.D.’s face was anything to go off of, Veronica would guess that he kind of wished she had just taken the window. “I kind of wish it would snow.”

At that J.D. looked up. “It’s September. Average snow time for the state of Ohio is December.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Why do you know that?”

He shrugged. “I like learning about where I’m moving. It makes the transition seem less strange and abrupt.”

Heather Chandler raised an elegant eyebrow. “Why did you move around so much? Couldn’t behave yourself long enough to stay in one school? Criminal activity? On the run from the Feds?”

“No,” J.D answered tersely. “It was for my father’s job.” His voice was strained, and even Chandler knew enough to let the topic drop. 

They were one stop from the library when the older man sitting across from them finally got off the bus, and Veronica was more or less safe to speak.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Veronica told her four companions. Even though the only people in the bus were farther away now that the other man was gone, she still didn’t want to be loud with the risk that somebody could overhear. “My friend Martha is going to help us. She is very sweet, so don’t be mean to her. Since we are all here, the newspapers are going to be split into groups. That will make the whole thing go so much faster. If we get done in time, Duke will have plenty of time to find some new books. For once, we will be actually utilizing teamwork in this household. This is a momentous occasion; you all should feel honoured to be a part of it.”

“Heather, Heather and I work together as a team all the time,” Mcnamara loudly whispered to J.D., no doubt thinking that Veronica couldn’t hear. “But Veronica rarely gets to be included in that. She must be so excited!”

“Yes, totally excited to be joining your weird gang.” Veronica muttered. She caught Duke’s eye and the other girl cracked a smile. 

After what felt like an exceptionally long five minute period between stops, the bus finally pulled up infront of the library, and Veronica and her friendly gang of ghosts gathered on the sidewalk outside. 

“Remember,” She said, shooting a pointed look at Heather Chandler. “Be nice.”

Martha immediately approached Veronica when they entered the library. “Ronnie!” Her wide smile faltered for a second when she saw the other four. “Who are these?” 

“This is Heather Duke, Heather Chandler, and Heather Mcnamara,” Veronica gestured to the three of them as she said their names. “You remember them, right? And then this is J.D.”

“Hi,” Martha said shyly, giving a small wave. “Your hair is really pretty.”

This was directed at Chandler, who directed a long look at Veronica, before forcing a smile. “Thanks.”

“Okay,” Veronica clasped her hands together. “Martha, J.D. has given me some extra information, with which I believe we should be able to find some new information. And, as you can likely see, we’re all here to help.”

Martha smiled brightly. “I’ll go get the papers.”

•

“Heather! I swear to God, if you throw one more paper airplane at me we will never be leaving the house again.”

“Sorry,” Heather Mcnamara giggled, unfolding the paper she had been about to throw at Veronica. “Do you really do this for hours at a time? It’s so boring.”

“You get used to it,” Veronica said dryly. “J.D., you mentioned this morning that your father works in construction, right?”

J.D. looked up from his own stack of papers, which he was over halfway through. “Deconstruction, but yes. Why?”

Veronica held up a paper from the previous week. “Is this him?”

J.D. swore under his breath, taking the page. “That’s him. When is this from?”

“Last Monday,” Veronica responded. “I guess that means he’s still here.”

“Yeah,” J.D. said quietly. “I guess he’s still here.”

“Hey!” Chandler called from the other end of the table. “Don’t sound so disappointed. I am getting my body away from that sicko if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

Duke mimed raising a glass. “I support that.”

Veronica noticed that J.D. was beginning to look really uncomfortable again and she herself was about to intervene, but Martha stepped in before she got the chance. “Some of these should probably be cleared up before we all get confused.” She, as always, smiled widely at him. “J.D., do you want to help?”

“Um, sure.” J.D. stood, gathering some of the papers. “Where should…?”

“Oh, just follow me!” Martha and J.D. vanished backed into the stores room.

They were still gone when Mcnamara abruptly sat up straight. “I found something!” She said, sounding extremely surprised. “Veronica, I actually found something.”

Veronica leaned over. “Let me see it.” Mcnamara handed her the paper and Veronica quickly read it. “I think this may be what we had been looking for.”

It was a small section in the right hand corner of the fourth page of the paper from three weeks previous. Veronica had seen more than her fair share of missing persons ads, but this was arguably the most simplistic. It simply listed his name, age, where he may have last been, and a number to call if needed. Next to it was a picture that had to be at least two years old; that J.D. looked so much younger than the J.D. Veronica knew. She felt a pang of sadness at the idea of showing all of this to him. It had to hurt to see definitive proof that your parents hardly cared about you, did it not?

Chandler took the paper from Veronica and briefly scanned it over. “Wow, that’s one shitty missing person ad. I remember mine being so much bigger. And in colour.”

Veronica snatched it back. “It’s not a competition.”

“What’s not a competition?” Martha asked, she and J.D. returning just in time to see Duke take the paper and read it as well. “Oh, did you find something?”

Veronica nodded, before getting the paper back from Duke and silently handing it to J.D. 

He and Martha looked at it together. Martha looked vaguely annoyed, but J.D. just looked blank. “I don’t know what I expected from him. Nobody probably noticed this, and that’s probably what he wanted. I never figured anyone would notice when I went out anyway.”

Surprisingly, Duke was the first to react to that. “No offense, but your father seems like an asshole and nothing about the fact that he’s murdered four people is surprising.”

“No offense taken; I’m inclined to agree.” J.D. carefully replied all of the remaining papers, save the two they needed to copy. “Veronica, can we go to 7-Eleven?”

Before properly thinking about it, Veronica automatically answered. “No, I have to be home.

J.D. looked doubtful. “You want to go home and sit in your room for the next four hours? Does going out not seem like a better idea?”

•

They were back on the bus, and J.D. was sipping a slushie. 

“I told you this was a better idea,” He said smugly. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Veronica grumbled, even though she honestly couldn’t have possibly less upset. It was nice not to see J.D. moping around, almost as nice as it was for everyone to get out. “Heather, how are the corn-nuts?”

Chandler leaned forward, voice forced to be pleasant. “Veronica, sweetie, you are in my good graces right now. Please don’t ruin it.”

“I think that means she likes them,” Veronica said quietly to J.D. They had rearranged the seating after Mcnamara decided that she was going to lay spread across two seats. Veronica and J.D. sat behind her, while Duke and Chandler sat behind the two of them. “Anyway, I think we need to talk about something.”

J.D. looked up innocently from his drink. “And what would that be?” At Veronica’s look, he sighed. “I kind of wanted to never think about him again.”

“I know,” Veronica said, trying for sympathy. “But the Heathers and I have been trying to get a lead on this for years. They need to get this dealt with to be able to move on with their lives, um, or deaths, I guess. The science on this is really shaky.”

“Try to explain.”

“Well, it’s like with Martha,” Veronica told him. Explaining this felt strange. Every ghost she had ever met seemed to have a general understanding of how things worked. She could not understand why J.D. was so different. “When she and I first met, she was so obsessed finding out what happened to her. It was basically all she talked about. When we were able to come up with answers, she was able to become more...herself, you know? Counterly, there was this girl Betty who I met ages ago. When we came up with answers for her, she ‘moved on’ entirely. It just depends on the person.”

“What do you think Heather, Heather, and Heather would choose?”

Veronica shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“What about me?”

That she thought harder on, but still could not come up with an answer. Veronica had tried, with almost every dead friend she made, to guess what they would one day do, but it was always a surprise. There was, as far she was aware, no set method to figuring it out. “I don’t know. But I hope whatever it ends up being, it makes you really happy.”

J.D. slowly sipped his slushie. “That’s quite nice of you. If you want, I’ll show you where his house is.”

Duke stuck her head out from behind her book. “Does this mean we’re going on another trip out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a more fun chapter this time around.   
> Happy Halloween! I don't believe we'll be having a new chapter before then, so I'll just say this now. I'm going to dress up as Rose Red from Ghost Quartet and it's going to be awesome.  
> Speaking of next chpater, so...I'm not sure when that will be happening. I'm going to Florida in early November and I'm going to try to avoid messing with my update scheduel, but that may not work. We're just going to have to see what happens. This trip is literally schedueled at the worst possible time; I'm missing district choir auditions, the SAT, my history class, choir group practice, and literally anything else that could possibly happen. So yeah, basically everything is a mess and I'm not sure when, but the next chapter will hopefully be coming out soon.  
> As always, thank you all so much for reading/kudosing/commenting/etc. Have a nice day!


	7. We Get to Go On an Adventure Inside of J.D.'s Head Also Plan

Veronica was at school when Heather, Heather, and Heather cornered J.D.

The house was always so empty during the day. Veronica’s father, who J.D. was almost positive was a police officer, left at ridiculously early in the morning and didn’t get home until the evening. Veronica’s mother, who J.D. was almost positive was a lawyer, left right after Veronica and was never home until right before her. Most of the day, J.D. and the Heathers were left entirely to their own devices. 

J.D. was used to being alone. His father was hardly one for family time; he spent most days either off blowing things up or hidden away in his office. What was more unusual than being alone was being alone, but with others. 

To be fair, being alone with the Heathers was most of the time hardly any different than just being straight on his own. He rarely ever saw them, and even if he did, Mcnamara was the only one who ever talked to him. And that was generally only if Duke and Chandler weren’t in the immediate vicinity. 

Not to say that he was unhappy with that, of course. J.D. was more than happy not be constantly on edge, waiting for his father to get angry about something and start flipping out. Also, Veronica had the box set of every single season of the X-Files and J.D. was midway through the second. 

He was actually watching it, the weird vampire (??) serial killer (???) episode, when all three of them showed up. “Hi?”

They looked about as unfriendly as a group of high school girls possibly could. Even Mcnamara, who as far as J.D. could tell was actually fond of him, seemed bigger and more intimidating than usual. 

“Good morning, Jason,” Chandler said, narrowing her eyes when J.D. winced at the use of his full name. “Do you have a minute?” 

“I guess,” J.D. said, and he pretended he wasn’t nervous about this and that he didn’t feel horribly guilty about what happened. “What do you need?”

Suddenly, he was surrounded, with Chandler in front of him, the chair back up against his back, and Duke and Mcnamara on either side. His breathe caught in his throat for a second as the memory of being in more or less the same position with his father flashed behind his eyes. He tightened his grip on the side of the chair, and repeated his question. “What do you need.”

“Veronica seems to trust you,” Chandler said, her voice low and dangerous. “But we don’t. I think you remember more than you claim. And I think you knew more than you claim. So I’m going to ask you what Veronica was too afraid to. Why didn’t you say anything to the police?”

J.D. wanted to disappear. “You don’t understand.”

Chandler seemed to get even closer. Out of the corner of his eye, J.D. saw Mcnamara move as if she wanted to stop her, but she didn’t. “What the hell don’t I understand about that man? You don’t seem to fully get what happened. He killed us. He dragged us into your god-awful basement, and he fucking killed us. What on Earth could we not understand about how horrible he is?” 

“He would find out I told,” J.D. said quickly, hoping if he got as many words out in quick session, she would back down. “He would find out, and then he would have gone after me regardless. And I wanted to believe it was an accident. That it had all happened before. That it hadn’t been his fault. I don’t know, okay?”

“If you thought he would go after you for bringing this to the police,” Chandler growled. “How on Earth could you not think he was capable of killing someone else? That’s so stupid.”

She was way too close. “I didn’t want to think that he could.” J.D.’s voice cracked. “That would mean I was right about him all along.”

Chandler looked as if she was about to go on, but Duke cut her off with a loud sigh. “Heather, back off,” Duke said, and to the surprise of everyone, Chandler took a step back. “Haven’t you scared him enough?” 

There were a few seconds of tense silence with everyone looking at her, and then Chandler crossed her arms. “I doubt he is this good of an actor. I don’t think he was involved.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” Mcnamara leaned against his arm, but backed off when he winced. “I didn’t think you were ever,” She said brightly to J.D. “But Heather said that we really could never be sure.”

J.D. let out a slow and shaky breath, trying to will his heartbeat into slowing down. Rationally, he knew it did not really matter; he was...dead...and he really should not have had a heartbeat anyway. But still, he wanted to calm down. He thought that he would feel considerably better if he just calmed down. 

Duke had the decency to look as if she felt at least a little bad. “I’m so sorry that we basically, like, tourchered you. We just wanted to be sure, you know?” She gave Chandler a meaningful look. “Although I personally thought all of that wasn’t necessary.”

Chandler, on the opposite side of the spectrum, didn’t seem to feel bad at all. Not that J.D. was surprised. She had made it exceptionally clear that she neither liked nor particularly trusted him. However, she sat down on the couch and crossed her legs. “Veronica should be home soon. We can all just wait down here. J.D., the remote?”

He glanced at the remote, and for a second, honestly considered not giving it to her. But he did, because he did not want to cause any more issues than he already had. She flipped the channel to some movie J.D. didn’t recognise, and that was that. Heather Chandler, as always, held all of the authority. 

•

Veronica’s mother was not to be home until late that day, so she walked into the house loudly singing. As one does. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Veronica nearly screamed. “Oh my God, Duke.”

Duke stood in the doorway, looking at Veronica with the most weirded out expression she had ever seen. “Is this what you do while we’re all upstairs?”

“Speaking of which,” Veronica chose to sidestep the question. “Why are you down here? You all normally hang out upstairs.”

Duke raised her eyebrows. “Sure. Anyway, J.D. was down here so we all came down until you got back.”

“And everyone got along?”

She shrugged and left the room. Exactly the answer one could expect from Heather Duke if it was a topic she didn’t care about. 

Veronica rolled her eyes, and quickly followed. 

She caught up just in time to hear Duke loudly announce, “I scared Veronica,” sounding much too pleased with herself as she did so. 

“Did you really?” J.D. said, so brightly he nearly sounded sarcastic. “That’s just wonderful, Heather.” 

Veronica gave him a look. He looked innocently back. She saw that his jaw was shaking. So she chose to let things go. 

“So,” Veronica redirected her attention away from J.D. and Duke and instead focused on the suspiciously quiet Heather Chandler. “What did you all do while I was gone? And follow up question, do you always come down here while I’m at school.”

“Ooh, I want to answer the second one!” Mcnamara said, sitting up properly. “Yes, yes we do. And did you really not know? I thought you always knew.”

“Trust me, if I knew, I would never be able to focus on anything out of fear that my mother would somehow find you while I was gone,” Veronica fretted, already running through all the possibilities in her head. Truly, the only possible outcome was quite deadly; there was no way her poor, poor mother could deal with encountering no less than four ghosts residing in her own home. “Anyway, takers on the first question? Maybe, I don’t know, Chandler?” 

Chandler looked up in -what Veronica was pretty sure was - fake surprise. “Oh, you were talking to me?” Veronica slowly nodded, and Chandler slowly mimicked her movements. “Yeah, we were just ensuring that we can trust J.D.” All eyes turned to J.D. and he awkwardly waved. Chandler sighed dramatically. “Oh, calm down, Veronica. At this rate you’re going to stress yourself to death and then we’ll all be worse off for it.”

Veronica buried her palms into her eyes, already feeling a headache starting. “J.D., are you alright?” 

“I’m alright,” Veronica heard some shuffling around and when J.D. spoke again, his voice was coming from much closer. “Really, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I...I get where they’re coming from.”

Veronica uncovered her eyes and blinked, momentarily unnerved by the complete rearranging of people that had taken place while she wasn’t looking. Mcnamara and J.D. had moved to the floor, while Chandler and Duke had taken the chair and couch, respectively. Veronica sat down next to Duke. “While we’re all here, we might as well work some things out.”

“Like what?” Chandler said skeptically. “We’ve already done all of your research.” 

“And clearly we should just leave that research to rot in the back of a notebook,” Veronica responded with biting sarcasm. “No, we need to come up with a plan to get into J.D.’s father’s house.” 

And thus, Veronica’s words erupted mass chaos. 

“Hey!” She shouted over all of them. “Some order would be extremely helpful here.”

“I don’t want to go back there,” Mcnamara said nervously. “What if he can see us?”

“That’s statistically improbable,” Veronica tried to explain to Mcnamara, even though she really did sympathise. It had to be miserable to go back to somebody who hurt you so badly. “I’ve never met anyone else who is legitimately able to see ghosts like I can. If you’re not trying to be seen, he won’t see you.”

J.D. leaned closer to Mcnamara. “And if he does, I’ll take him out for you. Hell, I’ll even enjoy doing it.” 

She giggled. “Whatever, J.D.”

He looked much happier at her reaction, but his eyes darkened when he seemed to remember what Veronica had said. “We cannot go to my father’s house.”

She stared, forcing J.D. to make eye contact. “Why not?”

“He has four counts of murder on his hands,” J.D. snapped. “Why would going back seem like a good idea?” 

“Because he has four counts of murder on his hands, and we’re the only ones who can do something about it!” Veronica snapped back. If he was going to yell, so was she. “What do you want us to do, let him get away with it?”

“What does it matter if we’re all dead anyway?” 

Oddly enough, that was the comment that got everyone to be quiet. 

J.D. looked slightly embarrassed, and when he ducked his head down, Veronica was surprised to see that he was blushing at least a little. “I mean, it’s not like we can do anything about it.” 

“I agree with Veronica.” Duke spoke up. Both J.D. and Mcnamara looked vaguely betrayed. “He can’t do anything worse to us than he already has. Why not just take the opportunity to screw him over?”

Even more surprising, which was saying something as this whole conversation had been filled with surprises, it was Heather Chandler who spoke next. “Veronica isn’t dead,” She pointed out. “Something bad could still happen to her.”

Veronica was annoyed, J.D.’s eyes widened, Mcnamara looked terrified, and Duke just seems indifferent. “Really Chandler? This is the first time you ever act like you give a shit about me?”

“Oh grow up, Veronica,” Chandler rolled her eyes. “I’m simply being realistic. You are the only one of us who could possibly do something about this, but you’re also the only one who can be killed.”

Veronica went to argue, but Duke cut her off. “Can’t we just take a vote or something?”

“Yes,” Veronica looked directly at Chandler. “That seems like a lovely idea. Anyone who wants to go to J.D.’s house, come stand with me, and anyone who doesn’t, go stand with Chandler. Mcnamara and Duke immediately went to stand by Chandler and Veronica, respectfully. 

J.D. was the only one left undecided. 

“C’mon, J.D.,” Veronica said softly. “I know you don’t want to see him again, but we can stop him. We can make sure he never does anything to anyone again.” 

J.D. sucked in a long, slow breath, stood up, and moved to stand with Veronica and Duke. “I want him out of society.”

Veronica let out her own sigh of relief. There was no way in hell that, in good conscience, she could leave J.D.’s father out on his own, getting away with murdering three of the people she had, oddly enough, become extremely close with, as well as the scared boy who she met at a 7-Eleven. Veronica Sawyer damn well wanted to be a good person, and a good person would never have done that. 

Chandler seemed very put out, but still gave in. “I guess I’ll just side with the rest of you then. No point in fighting if you all clearly have some sort of death wish.”

Only Mcnamara still was reluctant. “I don’t know,” She said softly. “I don’t...I don’t know if I can see him.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” J.D. said quickly. And then forcefully, as if anyone was going to argue, added, “She can stay here.” 

“No!” Mcnamara quickly said. “I don’t want to be here alone. If you’re all going, so am I. Just...please don’t leave me alone.”

“Of course,” Veronica reassured her. “Nobody will be alone.”

“Okay,” Chandler leaned back, placing one perfectly manicured hand on the back of the couch and crossing one leg over the other. “What’s the plan?”

Veronica practically leaped into action. She pulled out the notebook, which she had been doodling details into all day. “Okay, so I’m currently taking a business class, right, and for extra credit, we can hold an interview of sorts with the owner of a local business. J.D., your father does own his construction business, right?” J.D. nodded. Veronica continued. “I’ll contact him, ask about the interview, and then when I go to do it, you all can go around the house and look for evidence. When I finish we all leave, and he doesn’t suspect a thing. That is, until we go to the police and he gets arrested.”

Everyone exchanged nervous glances. “And if he doesn’t agree to the interview?” Chandler eventually asked, voicing the question no doubt on everyone else’s mind as well. 

“He will,” Veronica said, faking confidence. “He has to. It would be suspicious if he didn’t.”

Chandler raised an eyebrow.

Veronica sighed. “Look, I know it isn’t the most fool-proof plan, and I know there are ten billion places where things can go wrong. But do we have anything better?”

All silence. Each of them knew there would be no better ideas. This was it. 

Chandler stood up. “I’ll get the phone book and look up his number.”

Veronica startled. “What?”

Chandler turned back, looking as if she found Veronica to be incredibly dense. “For calling about the interview? Might as well start now.”

She took a shaky breath, composing herself before repeating back in a softer voice, “Might as well start now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. I can't believe this is actually done early enough.   
> Anway I have decided that the updating scheduel on this will not be being messed up at all. I'm going to completely cut the next chapter of How Lucky We Are (it's irrelevent anyway), so everything should work out.  
> Some Notes:  
> 1\. I don't know what Veronica's parents do? So I made something up.   
> 2\. I've never seen more than like two episodes of the X-Files in my life, so I just looked up a random one and incorportated it. The one I referenced is season two episode seven, in case anyone cares.  
> 3\. I live for J.D. and Mcnamara being bros.   
> Oh my god writing notes for this is so much easier than it is for How Lucky We Are.  
> Thank you so much for reading, kudosing, commenting, etc! Have lovely weeks.


	8. J.D.'s house of stuff

“Oh my God, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Veronica paced back and forth across her room, anxiously chewing on her lip. “I literally spent all night thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong.” 

“Please don’t share,” J.D. said, looking vaguely queasy. “This was your idea and you being confident in it was the only reason I was confident in it.” He was laying on Veronica’s bed, mostly upside down, most of his hair flopping everywhere. “Also, please stop pacing.” 

Veronica stopped pacing and sat down next to him. “Sorry, I’m just stressed.”

“Yeah, we noticed.” Chandler said. She glanced at the digital clock on the night stand. “When are we leaving?”

“Twenty minutes.” Veronica answered. 

She had called J.D.’s father the evening before. It had been a horribly uncomfortable experience. She had built him up in her head to be such a monster that when he answered in a perfectly normal, if not polite, voice, Veronica hardly knew how to react. It was terrifying; if she hadn’t known in advance, she never could have guessed that the man she was speaking to was capable of killing anyone, let alone three young girls and his own son. 

“Did he seem suspicious?” J.D. asked, for what had to be the twentieth time. “Like he thought there was anything unusual about you?”

Veronica shook her head, responding for what had to be the twentieth time. “He seemed very professional. I doubt he thought me to be anything other than some random kid.” 

“So exactly what you are.” Chandler said, although her words lacked any kind of bite to them. She stood up and stretched, her back making a loud popping noise that made Veronica wince. “I’m going to go get Heather and Heather. Try not to...I don’t know...do something stupid while I’m gone.” She left.

“She’s so polite.” J.D. muttered under his breath, and Veronica laughed. 

“Honestly, it’s better now than when we first met. I’m pretty sure one of the initial exchanges between us was a threat on my life.”

“How did you meet?” J.D. asked, sitting up. “I asked Mac once, but she was really vague. 

Veronica shrugged. “Honestly, it wasn’t a particularly momentous event. I was wandering around outside, as one does, and came across three ghosts. As one does. Anyway I could tell they were new, because I saw Duke stick her arm through a door and get stuck. So I brought them home with me,” She grinned and nudged his arm. “Not everyone just follows me home.”

At least J.D. had the decency to look embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry about that. You bought me a slushie and I kind of got attached. That wasn’t my best day.” 

“And neither will be today, I imagine.” Chandler was back, standing in the door with Duke and Mcnamara on either side. “Are we going now?”

•

It was hardly any time at all later, yet already they were back on the bus.

“I miss my car,” Chandler lamented, gazing dramatically out the window. “It was so nice. And red. Veronica, why don’t you have a car?”

Veronica mumbled something incoherent about not having her license and not ordinarily having enough places to go to warrant that kind of spending, before directing her attention to the list of questions she was going to ask J.D.’s father. Duke and Mcnamara had written them the night before and Veronica had to say that they were quite good. They seemed like the typical kinds of questions one would expect from a high school business class. Innocent and kind of cliche, but convincing. 

“Are those the questions for him?” J.D. asked, leaning over her shoulder. “‘What made you interested in destroying things?’ Oh, he’ll love that one.” 

“You had the opportunity to collaborate on these and turned it down,” Veronica teased, pulling them out of his sight. “So no complaints.” 

“Writers get criticism, so you better get used to it.” He said lightly, disappearing back behind the seat before Veronica could point out that it wasn’t even her own writing.

They made it two more stops in almost complete silence, before J.D. popped up again.

“Okay, this next one is ours,” He said quietly, even though nobody could hear except for Veronica and the Heathers. “Then we turn the corner, and my, uh, his house is the third one from the end of the townhouse block. The door is red,” He glanced at Chandler as if he wanted to make some kind of joke, but did not. “Uh, it’s the only one.”

The bus slowed to a stop, but nobody made any move to get up.

After a few second, Duke sighed loudly and stood. “Must I do everything?” And she began walking to the front. 

Everyone else exchanged a look, and then they followed. 

•

Mr. Dean had offered Veronica a drink as soon as she stepped inside, but she had turned it down. This was in part due to Heather Chandler, who had been standing directly behind her, hissing about poison and untrustworthy men and how Veronica never would have made it on her own with her lack of self preservation. 

It was actually smart in another way as well. While Dean was off getting a drink for himself, Veronica was free to talk to the others, albeit very quietly.

“Remember, take pictures of anything you think looks even remotely suspicious,” Veronica said, passing Duke the small throw-away camera she had purchased earlier that morning. “We can work through later and decide what is actually usefully. Everyone okay? J.D.?”

“I’m fine,” He said anxiously, looking around at room. “It just feels...really weird to be in here. Without him seeing me.” 

Mcnamara wrapped her arm around J.D’s, patting his shoulder. “Remember, I’ll beat him up for you.” Duke responded with an eyeroll, but no comment. 

Dean returned, and Veronica quickly shut up. He sat down across from her at the table, setting down a glass of water in front of her anyway. “We may have to rush this; I have a meeting scheduled in about half an hour.” He said, at least having the decency to sound apologetic.

Veronica glanced at J.D. and the Heathers, trying to silently convey the question. Would that be enough time? At Chandler’s nod, she did her best to smile at Dean, and asked the first question. “Did you have any influences in your life that made you interested in creating your own business?”

•

“Which room is yours?” Chandler asked J.D. as they stepped down the hallway. “Maybe we can find something in there.”

“Two doors down on the left.” He said, looking inside his father’s office. It was almost completely empty, although there was a desk with a few doors. “Do you want to check that while I look in here?”

Chandler nodded. “Heather, do you want to stay with him and Heather can come with me?”

Duke nodded, and Chandler and Mcnamara went further down to what had used to be J.D.’s bedroom. 

“I’ll check the drawers,” Duke told J.D. “And you can check those filing cabinets. And hurry up. I want to get out of here.”

J.D. nodded, going over to the filing cabinet. He opened it up (the lock was undone, because when had his father ever had to worry about people going against him?) and began to shift through random documents detailing different jobs and the finances and processes involved. 

It was a mindless process, and his thoughts quickly began to wander. It felt so strange, being in his own house. There were differences, of course there were differences, but it was the similarities that were so jarring. It had been J.D.’s home too; why was every imprint left on it his father’s?

Of course, it had been the same when his mother left. She had seemed like the biggest presence in his life as a child, but when she was gone, nothing seemed to change. He was just lonelier. And more scared. 

Duke slammed the final drawer shut, and J.D. jumped. “There’s nothing in here. Are you done?” 

“Almost,” He opened up the final folder and began to flip through it. “I don’t think anything is here though. It all seems to be business records.” He shut the folder. “Yeah, there’s nothing.”

“Same here,” Duke said, sounding bored. The whole exchange was a bit awkward; J.D. had honestly not spoken to Duke more than once or twice, and it showed. “Hopefully Heather and Heather have found something. Shall we go check?”

They left and found Chandler and Mcnamara already waiting outside J.D.’s old bedroom. 

“Nothing?” Chandler said, easily reading the expressions on their faces. “Same here,” She looked angry, and Mcnamara beside her nervous. “There can’t just be no evidence.” J.D. moved to step inside the room, but Chandler stood in front of him. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

J.D. gave her a look and stepped around her. When he entered the doorway, he stopped abruptly.

It was empty. No, that was a lie. It was empty of what had occupied it the last time he had seen it (his unmade bed, his laundry he never actually put away on time, the picture of his mom he always kept dustless on his nightstand) and instead there were two bookshelves with hardly more than ten books between the two of them, and three unlabeled cardboard boxes. 

J.D. took a step backwards, closing the door even though somewhere in his mind he knew that that was just increasing the risk of his father hearing and Veronica’s trick being found out. He took a long, slow, and shaky breath, willing himself to react calmly.

His father was a big person, not in stature, but in personality. And he suffocated everyone else, until there was only room for himself. J.D. had thought that he was above that, that for some reason he could hold his own. Evidently, he was incorrect. 

Nobody seemed to want to say anything to him, even Mcnamara. Maybe, J.D. thought, that was better. “There’s a basement,” He said after a second or two. “Maybe we should look there.”

Oddly enough, Chandler looked relieved. J.D. kind of understood though; he wanted this to be done as much as she clearly did. “Show me where it is.”

He lead her to the other side of the house. When they passed the kitchen, Veronica was still talking to his father. She made eye contact with J.D. and without stopping the conversation, subtly tapped at her watch. They were running out of time. 

The basement was as dark and dirty as he remembered it. Of course, the only light bulb was burnt out, but J.D. had long since discovered that being dead made one surprisingly luminous. 

“I would be worried about mold,” Chander said, looking around like she had never seen something more disgusting in her life. “But given the state of this place, I think that is the least of our worries.”

“It’s not like it can do anything to us anyway.” Mcnamara pointed out, but it did not escape anyone’s notice that she was taking great care to avoid touching the walls. 

“My father has an extra office down here,” J.D. said, stepping over a broom that had fallen onto the ground. “Let’s check there first. That’s where I originally found the stuff that mentioned the three of you.”

“What did you find?” Duke asked him. “We can look faster if we know what we’re looking for.”

“It was a notepad,” J.D. said after a beat of silence. “He had a drawing of the backyard with where the bodies were buried. It was subtle, but I could tell what it was.”

Duke nodded, J.D. opened the door, and they all split off to search themselves. 

It was hardly five minutes before Mcnamara spoke up. “I think I found something.” She said, holding out a piece of paper. “J.D., is this what you had seen?” 

He quickly went over and looked at the paper, sucking in his breath as he saw the drawing. There was a new one, labeled with his own initials. “That’s it.” 

•

Veronica was on her very last question when J.D. and the Heathers returned, all looking effectively freaked out. She forced herself to smile at Dean again. “Thank you so much for your time, sir. I best be getting on my way. Have a nice weekend.”

Dean let her out, but Veronica hardly remembered that. So many questions were running through her head. Had they been successful? If so, what had they found?

When they were at the bus stop, Veronica finally asked. “Did you find anything?” 

Chandler silently held out a piece of paper. “Don’t touch it,” She warned, “You’ll leave fingerprints.”

Veronica looked at, instantly realising what it was. “Jesus Christ.” Then she noticed something else and looked up, puzzled. “Who’s the fifth grave?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is really rushed? I'm sorry if it's rushed. I didn't have a computer for like half the week so I had to write this way faster than normal.  
> Anyway we're nearing the end! This is going to be ten chapters in total, so two more to go.  
> Thank you so much to everyone for reading, kudosing, commenting, etc!


	9. Sorry for the cliffhanger lol

They took the bus to 7-Eleven, per J.D.’s request. Veronica ordinarily would not have gone for it, but they were all shaken, and she really did not want to go home. 

“I just don’t get it,” Veronica said, handing J.D. his slushie, Chandler her corn...things (chips? Were they chips? She had no idea), Duke her coffee, Mcnamara her ice cream, and taking the remaining root beer for herself. “If he killed a fifth person, there should have been a ghost. Why wouldn’t there have been a ghost? All the rest of you are here.”

“Maybe whomever it was just didn’t have a ghost.” Mcnamara suggested. 

Veronica crossed her arms, sinking further into her chair. They had decided, purely for privacy’s sake, that they were not going to hang out in the 7-Eleven. J.D. seemed fairly distressed by this decision, but it was highly impractical. Veronica could hardly spend a large amount of time in a mostly empty convenience store seemingly talking to herself. It was much safer to be hanging out at some collection of entirely empty tables sitting outside of the aforementioned mostly empty convenience store. “Why would she not have a ghost? The rest of you have a ghost.”

Chandler scoffed, opening her bag of corn...puffs? “So now you’re pretending you have any idea how this all works?” She turned her sharp blue eyes towards J.D. “Hey, did you see that paper when you originally found out? That could tell us how recent it is.”

J.D.’s eyes were wide and anxious over his slushie. “I don’t remember.”

“How can you not remember?”

“I don’t remember anything specific about that day, okay?” J.D. said defensively. “You try getting murdered. See how well you remember things.” He winced, realising what he had said just as Chandler’s glare became even more dangerous. “I’m so sorry, Heather. I...I didn’t…”

For a second, Veronica thought she was going to have to intervene. But all four of them watched closely as Chandler took a deep breath and composed herself. 

“It’s fine,” She said, her face a mask of steady calm. “J.D., anything. Anything you think is insignificant, it could still mean something.” 

“I promise,” J.D. said. He glanced at Veronica, looking as if he was trying to ask her a question, but what it was she could not figure out. “I remember absolutely nothing.”

Duke abruptly spoke up. “Heather, do you remember when we died?”

Chandler looked at her indignantly. “Of course. Don’t you?”

Duke shrugged. “Hardly. I remember most of the events leading up to it, but not with details. I wouldn’t remember what was or was not on that paper either.”

Chandler crushed her corn...nuts? bag in her hand. “Fine. I’ll believe him.”

Veronica relaxed. Crisis averted. “If you guys are done, we can get going. Drop this off.” 

They were going to give the evidence to the police. Veronica had weighed it over, and that seemed like the best course of action. That way, Dean got what he deserved and they could hopefully solve the mystery of who the fifth person was. 

J.D. drank the end of his slushie and tossed it into the trashcan a few feet away. “Let’s get this over with.”

•

They were again, on the bus.

“I still don’t want to go to the police.” J.D. said quietly, very close to Veronica’s ear so the Heathers would not hear. “I don’t think we have enough. He could get away.”

The bus went over a pothole and Veronica accidentally jolted forward. If J.D. had been a solid entity, they would have collided. 

“He won’t get away as long as we can talk them into excavating the yard,” Veronica whispered back, steadying herself. “And trust me, I can be persuasive if I want to be.”

“I’d rather take him out myself. We can go back, slip some poison into his coffee. He’ll never know what hit him. Or hell, I know where the guns are, we could-”

“Absolutely not,” Veronica hissed. “We will not stoop to his level, and I will not allow anyone else to die in this mess. What if it got traced back to me? I know you have nothing to lose, but I still have plenty.”

J.D. would not be disueded. “You don’t have to be involved at all. I can make it look like I came back and did it.”

“J.D.”

“It would really be quite simple. Nobody knows I’m dead anyway. You wouldn’t be involved in the slightest.”

“J.D.”

He just kept talking, voice becoming more and more hysterical. “Hell, I don’t need to worry about being caught; I could even leave a note.”

“Jason!” 

Veronica realised her mistake as every pair of eyes on the entire bus turned to look at her, searching for an explanation to what she blurted loudly into silence. So she improvised, and just started loudly coughing. 

When everyone went back to minding their own business - minus the Heathers, who were watching both of them closely - Veronica went back to arguing with J.D. 

“J.D., if you kill him, I’ll have been the last person to see him,” She whispered. “He had it written in his schedule. And I told my parents where I was going, just in case something happened. There’s proof I was there.”

J.D.’s hands were noticeably shaking, and Veronica felt so bad for him. But she could not let him kill a man. “I just want him gone.” 

She put one of her hands on his. “I know. But we have to let the police do this.”

He ran his other hand over his face, looking as exhausted with all of this as Veronica felt. “Okay.” And he turned around and did not speak to her again for the rest of the bus ride. 

•

She was alone, and nobody would listen to her.

J.D., Chandler, Duke, and Mcnamara were to wait outside, while Veronica went into the police station. Professional facilities were, well, professional, and she did not particularly like the idea of bringing the four others into one. Of course, it hardly seemed like they could have caused any more issues than had already occurred. 

There was a cop sitting behind the front desk, feet up on top of some pile of papers, watching Veronica over a cup of coffee. His name was Paris, or Parrish, something of that sort. “Sweetie, you can wait all you want; nobody is going to come talk to you.” 

Veronica grinded her teeth. “I’ll wait, thanks.”

He shrugged, just as he had when she first came in and said she needed to report something. “Suit yourself.”

Veronica drummed her foot on the floor, glancing again at the paper in her hand. She had been careful to only touch the very corner, as not to leave finger prints. Paris - yes, that was his name - was lying. He had to be lying. How could nobody be in the entire place?

Five minutes later, a woman walked in. She looked back and forth between Paris and Veronica. “May I ask what is going on here?” 

“Oh, Officer Santiago!” Paris quickly stood up. “I did not think you would be in today.”

“I can see that,” The woman - Officer Santiago, evidently - looked at the crumpled up papers on which Paris’ shoes had previously rested with a glare of contempt. Then she directed her attention to Veronica. “And who is this?” 

“Just some teenager screwing around,” Paris said, before Veronica herself could even get a word out. “I’ve been telling her to leave for the past twenty minutes but she refuses to go.” 

“Ma’am, I just need to talk to someone!” Veronica blurted out, every bit of anger she felt towards Dean, and her parents, and Paris, and the world suddenly rising up to make her twenty times more bold than she ever would have been in such a situation. “But he refuses to even give me the chance.”

Santiago seemed intrigued. “And do you have a name?”

“Veronica Sawyer, ma’am.” 

“Come with me.”

Paris immediately began to protest, but most of whatever he was saying was drowned out by the loud tap of Santiago’s hard soled shoes. 

“I apologise for Paris,” Santiago said after they were presumably out of the man’s earshot. “He never has quite mastered the art of either public relations or speaking to women as if he actually considers them to be human beings.”

Veronica smiled, inclined to agree. Not that she was going to say that. Best not to test her luck now. “It...I imagine he simply misunderstood the urgency this situation.”

They got to an office, nameplate reading Santiago on the door, and entered. Santiago situated herself behind the desk, hands clasped in front, the picture of professionalism. “How may I be of assistance, Miss Sawyer.”

Veronica carefully handed her the piece of paper. “I was interviewing Mr. Dean for a school project and I found this. I’m pretty sure it’s a map of his backyard. I noticed it because I recognised the names written. Jason, I think he went missing a few weeks ago. And I remember the story about the three girls named Heather, I remember hearing about that for ages.”

Santiago let Veronica ramble in silence, putting on rubber gloves and then scrutinizing the paper. 

“I didn’t know what exactly it meant, or what I should do, so I just came here.” Veronica finished lamely. The last part was true, at least. None of them had truly known what to do, they were just hoping this was the best solution. 

Santiago seemed to believe her, at least. Maybe having to lie about the majority of her life did have it’s benefits. “This is...certainly interesting. I wouldn’t find it odd, but the names of four missing teenagers certainly raise some alarms.” She put the papers in a clear bag and stuck a label on it. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. May I get some contact information.”

“Uh,” Veronica awkwardly pulled at her hair. “I was actually hoping to keep that anonymous. Unfortunately, Paris kind of ruined that intention. It’s just...Mr. Dean made me really uncomfortable. I don’t want him able to trace this back to me.”

Veronica had no idea if this was allowed. She had to have broken some rule of anonymity at this point, hadn’t she? But Santiago did not seem to want to press things.

“I’ll get into contact with you if I need to,” She said, scribbling down something on a sticky note. “Here’s my number. Please contact me if you feel necessary. I’ll walk you out.”

•

The second Veronica left, J.D. and all three Heathers immediately surrounded her.

“What happened?” Mcnamara asked, her whole body practically pressed against Veronica’s arm. “We were worried when you took so long.”

“The guy working was an asshole,” Veronica said. “But this other woman came and talked to me. She said she was going to look into it.”

She made eye contact with J.D. over Mcnamara’s head. He looked tired, but relieved. Which was good, all earlier conversations considered. 

“God, Veronica, you would have issues with every single step of this process,” Chandler said, but she seemed relieved too. They all were. Dean had been hanging over the Heathers for month, he had been hanging over J.D. for years, and Veronica was so happy to have been the person to finally help them all.

•

When they got back to Veronica’s house, Duke suggested that they try watching the local news. If anything happened, it made sense that it would be showing there first, right? Sherwood was a fairly boring town; how often did anyone kill anyone else, let alone five anyone elses? If the police did find anything in Dean’s yard it was going to be a big deal.

“This is so stressful,” Mcnamara said, bouncing on the edge of the couch as all five of them watched some story about a Christmas tree shortage. “Can we call these people and tell them that nobody gives a damn about Christmas trees?” 

Duke looked up, vaguely affronted. “I like Christmas trees.” 

“I’ve with Mac on this one.” J.D. agreed. “No Christmas trees. Hell, I don’t even like Christmas.”

“Not even the music?” Veronica asked, starting to quietly hum Fum Fum Fum. 

“The music is overplayed and too..hallmark movie feeling.”

“Shut up, all of you!” Chandler suddenly said, grabbing Duke’s arm. “I think this may be it.”

All attention was suddenly on the TV screen. The headline simply read ‘breaking news’, with the video showing a newscaster in front of a street of compact small houses. 

“This just in,” She said, voice muffled slightly by wind. “A car crash occurred on a small, neighborhood street.”

“Jesus Christ,” Chandler fell back onto the couch. “Nobody cared about car crashes!”

Veronica and J.D. exchanged a look. “I think we’re all a little bit on edge right now,” Veronica said slowly, picking up the remote. “Maybe we should turn the TV off and just find out in the morning.”

“No!”

Veronica promptly put down the remote.

It wasn’t for another hour before she picked it up again. At that point it was late, and Veronica’s parents would be home soon. 

“Guys, I don’t think anything is going to happen.” She said gently, honestly feeling so awful. “If the police had found anything, it would be reported by now. I can check in with Santiago in the morning to see what happened, but at this point I imagine it was nothing.”

Almost as if summoned by her words, the news cut from a story about the local high school band getting to play at a professional football game. The same reporter from the fire stood in front of a very familiar house.

“Oh my God,” Veronica reached over to where J.D. was drowsing in the chair and shook his arm. “Is that his house?”

J.D. nodded, suddenly fully awake. “That’s his house.” His voice was so hoarse. Veronica decided to leave her hand on his arm, afraid that after everything, this would be too much.

“Police received an anonymous tip which after following, have found five bodies in the yard of Dean, a local construction worker. Three have been identified as the teenage girls who went missing three months previous, Heather Chandler, Heather Duke, and Heather Mcnamara.”

Mcnamara promptly burst into tears. Surprisingly, it was Chandler who put an arm around her shoulder, wiping away tears of her own. Duke was more stoic, but Veronica could see the storm of feelings behind her face.

“A fourth has been identified as Dean’s son, Jason, who very recently was reported missing by his school. And the final body…”

Veronica glanced over at J.D.. He was leaning forward slightly, gazing intently at the screen, alone. She slipped her hand into his, feeling awful that he did not have anyone. The Heathers had one another, and she had Martha. He didn’t have anyone.

“The final body has been identified as Dean’s wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay let's get into this.  
> So the cliff hanger at the end of last chapter? That existed because I ran out of time. The one at the end of this one? That happened because I rewrote like my entire plan for these last two chapters.   
> Now for some notes:  
> 1\. I rewatched the movie over Thanksgiving break! Anyway can we please address that literally everything Veronica wears is a Look™ in a good way and everything J.D. wears is a Look™ in a bad way? Except for that one blue shirt because I'm pretty sure I have that blue shirt.  
> 2\. Watching the movie also inspired me to make my J.D. a bit more murder-y. Thus that one scene.  
> 3\. The part where Veronica accidentally speaks loudly on the bus and tries to pass it off as coughing was totally inspired by the laughing/crying thing.  
> 4\. Paris is named after Parris from the crucible because I've SUFFERED through that play.  
> 5\. And Santiago is a b99 reference  
> 6\. The Christmas Tree shortage is apparently occuring in Dover.  
> 7.Fum Fum Fum is my song. We're doing it in choir and it's literally been stuck in my head since October.  
> 8.Lastly, does J.D.'s mother have a name? I feel like she has to but I have no idea what it is.  
> Anyway, second to last chapter!!!! I'm so nervous. Thanks for reading, kudosing, commenting, etc.!!!!


	10. And then we were done

Veronica had barely processed what had happened before J.D. was gone. 

“Shit.” She jumped over the back of the couch, much to the annoyance of Heather Chandler, whose face very nearly made physical contact with Veronica’s boot. “Chandler, Duke, Mcnamara, keep watching. I’ll go try to calm him down.”

“You do that, Veronica.” Chandler muttered, Veronica already too far away to give any sort of reply. 

She heard a door slam and - assuming correctly that he had gone to her room - ran up the stairs. Her bedroom door was shut, and she softly knocked. “J.D.? Can you maybe open the door?”

“Leave me alone, Veronica.” 

“No.”

“Do you think I’m going to open the door just because you’re here? I can be very patient.”

“And I can be very stubborn.” Veronica sighed, leaning against the door. “J.D., open the damn door. It makes absolutely no difference if we’re just going to stand here talking.”

Silence. For a second, Veronica was afraid that his solution to that problem was just going to be to stop talking entirely. But then there was a click, and the door opened. 

“I didn’t even lock it,” J.D. said dully. “You could have tried harder to open it.”

Veronica shrugged. “It seemed rude.”

“It’s your room. Your jurisdiction.” 

“Yet we all live there together.” Veronica gestured to her bed. “Shall we sit?”

J.D. nodded, and together they sat. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Veronica said uncomfortably, swinging her legs back and forth. She knew perfectly well that her response to this made her inexperience with emotions show through. She was used to death. She had been dealing with it since she was a child, subsequently losing the capability to react any way other than logically. And most of the time, that was what the dead needed. Facts, not emotions. But this was so different. 

If she was supposed to have such a high IQ, why couldn’t she understand something as simple as how to react? 

J.D. gave her a look as if he was thinking something extremely similar. But then he softened. “Yeah, I guess.” 

That was surprising. “You do?” Veronica said, accidentally letting herself sound startled. She quickly cleared her throat. “Uh, I mean, please do.”

J.D. gave her another look. “He told me that she was in Europe. For some reason I believed him, like he hadn’t spent my entire childhood lying to me about every tiny thing.” 

“How old were you?” Veronica asked quietly.

J.D. shrugged. “Too young.” It was hardly a real answer, but Veronica was not going to say anything. He didn’t owe her anything that he didn’t want to say. “I suppose it made sense though. She was better than him. And me. She deserved to go away. She didn’t…” His voice faded out. 

Veronica didn’t know where to go from there. “You deserved better too.” She finally decided upon. 

J.D. kind of laughed. “I should have known all along.”

He swung his feet, heels banging against the board of Veronica’s bed. “I...I think I did actually. Not all along, but since i found the paper. I can’t remember it properly, but I remember feeling so betrayed. It doesn’t make sense to have felt that for some people I’d never met before, does it?” J.D. paused for a second. “I should have remembered.”

“There’s no way you could have,” Veronica tried to explain to him. “Your brain blocks all that off. Trust me, nobody ever remembers the details. Do you remember Martha? She had no idea how she died. The Heathers only knew that they had been murdered together. It’s not your fault if you don’t remember.” 

They lapsed into silence. Maybe he didn’t believe her. Maybe he did. Maybe it didn’t matter. But Veronica really wanted to have helped somebody.

•

Eventually, they all ended up sitting at Veronica’s kitchen table. Funny how much for a group of people who hardly liked one another they ended up all together so often. 

“I guess we’re done then,” Duke finally said, voicing what they were all undoubtedly thinking. “What now?”

All eyes turned to Veronica. Made sense, as she was the one who should have had the best understanding. But in this case…

“I don’t know,” Veronica said truthfully. “I’ve seen some people who leave when they’re questions are answered. My friend Betty - she was one of the first that I ever helped - she vanished almost instantly. But Martha, who I’m sure you all remember, still sticks around.” She shrugged. “I think it’s up to you each individually.” 

“How does somebody make that sort of decision?” Mcnamara wondered aloud. “It seems impossible. I could never even make my mind up about what college to apply too.”

Veronica nodded, feeling slightly guilty about her own conflict regarding her future. Was that immature in light of literally choosing one’s path of continued existence? 

J.D.’s foot hit Veronica’s ankle under the table. She looked up, and he mouthed ‘you good?’. She quickly nodded, smiling. 

“Veronica, I want to talk to you.” Chandler suddenly announced, standing up. “Hallway, please.” 

Veronica gave J.D., Duke, and Mcnamara a confused look, but none of them seemed capable of providing any answers. 

Chandler, already in the hallway, turned back around to glare impatiently at Veronica. “Are you coming?”

“Sorry!” Veronica squeaked, hurrying after Chandler. The second she was out of the kitchen, Chandler closed the door.

“I have to ask you a serious question, and I want an honest answer,” Chandler said quietly, arms crossed in a way that was somehow both closed off and strangely vulnerable. “What is left for us here?”

How did one respond to that? Veronica glanced upwards, accidentally making eye contact with Heather Chandler. She looked terrified. Suddenly, Veronica realised that she technically had the most knowledge of this situation. She had watched the same thing happen, again and again, where someone ends up lonely and lost, trapped in a world where only one other person could see them. 

But...Heather, Heather, and Heather were not alone. They had the three of them. And, weirdly enough, they had Veronica. Could that be enough? 

“It’s lonely,” Veronica said slowly. “And you’re going to have to resolve yourself to having to hang out with me constantly. But if you think that you would be happy here, is that not something still left?” 

Chandler nodded. “Thank you, Veronica.” 

•

“I’m staying,” Chandler loudly announced upon their return to the kitchen. “I don’t care what the rest of you do, but I want to make the most of my death.” 

“I’m actually inclined to agree,” Mcnamara smiled at Veronica. “I like it here.”

Duke yawned, leaning her head up on her hand. “Guess I might as well stay too.”

Thus all eyes turned to J.D., the only one left undecided. His eyes flickered back and forth between all of them. “I...I don’t know.”

“Don’t feel pressured.” Veronica quickly said, knowing where this could potentially be going. “This should totally be based in what you feel comfortable with.”

J.D. ran his finger over the edge of the table. “I’m tired. I kind of want to be done. This sounds so morbid, but I just want to be left to be dead.”

Veronica nodded, ignoring the small pang of disappointment she felt at his decision. Even though he had shown up uninvited into her life and then refused to go away, she was going to miss him. But still, it was his choice, so she respected it. “When you’re ready, let me know. I want to tell you a proper goodbye.”

J.D. smiled, looking more happy and genuine since he had the entire time she had known him. 

•

It was two days later, in the evening, when J.D. hesitantly approached Veronica. “I think I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Veronica said calmly, even though she felt her heart racing. “Mac asked if we could tell the three of them when this happens. Is that okay?” 

He nodded. “I...wanted to say goodbye.”

Chandler, Duke, and Mcnamara were all downstairs, watching some musical Veronica didn’t recognise. Chandler looked up, and instantly knew what was happening. “You’re leaving.”

J.D. nodded. “I’m sorry my father did this to you.”

Chandler shrugged. “I’m sorry I was a bitch to you most of the time you were here.” She stuck her hand out, and J.D. awkwardly shook it. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure I was just as bad at some point.”

Duke was next. Now, in the entire time Veronica had known her, Duke had never been a particularly emotional person. But still, she pulled J.D. into a quick hug, whispering something in his ear as she pulled away that made him laugh. 

Mcnamara, never one for holding back, practically jumped the poor guy. “I’m going to miss you so much!” She said, burying her face in his neck. Veronica wasn’t positive, but she thought that Macnamara may have been crying.

J.D. looked over her shoulder, making eye contact with Veronica. He looked vaguely terrified, but still he hugged Mcnamara back. “It won’t be so bad,” He said quietly. “You’ll still have Chandler and Duke. And Veronica.” 

Mcnamara shook her head, burying closer to J.D.. “I’m positive that I’ll see you again eventually, and I’m positive that until that happens, I’ll miss you at least a little.”

“Okay,” He kind of laughed. “I guess I’ll miss you too then.”

And Mcnamara let go with a watery smile. 

Lastly, Veronica. 

“Thanks for everything,” J.D. said, awkwardly tucking his hands into his pockets. “For helping with my father. For letting me stay here.” He smiled. “For buying me a slushie.”

Veronica laughed. “You’re welcome. Thanks for helping me to help Chandler, Duke, and Mcnamara.”

J.D. nodded, glancing around the room. “Did you decide what you want to do?”

Veronica tilted her head slightly, puzzled. “What?”

“With your life.” He clarified. “You said you needed to make up your mind.”

“Oh.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I think I want to help people to find answers. I just need to find out how,”

J.D. nodded. “You’d be good at that.”

“Thanks.”

They stared at each other.

“Well, I should probably be-”

Veronica cut him off, finally deciding to follow in the footsteps of Mcnamara and Duke. She reached up to hug him, standing on her toes. He stiffened for a second, but quickly relaxed into it. “I guess I’ll miss you also.” She said quietly. 

They both pulled back at the same time, retaining a respectable distance. 

“I should probably be going,” J.D. started again, glancing between the four others in the room. “How exactly does this work?” That was directed at Veronica, and she quickly jumped into an explanation.

“You just kind of have to visualise a door.” She explained. “It can be a real one, or a fake one, but the important part is that you know you’re going somewhere else. It’s just like stepping from one room to another.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” And suddenly his expression was one of intense thoughtfulness.

Veronica closed her eyes, and when she reopened them hardly five seconds later, J.D. was gone. 

•

Veronica woke up to sunlight streaming into her eyes. “Why the hell is it so bright in here?” She mumbled drowsily, pushing her tangled mop of hair off of her face. 

“It’s like eleven o’clock,” Chandler said curtly, sitting on one of the beanbags with Duke. “And we were tired of sitting in the dark.”

“Also it’s really nice out.” Mcnamara piped up. 

Veronica jumped away from Mcnamara, who was sitting in her bed right next to her. “Jesus Christ.”

Mcnamara raised a single blonde eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Veronica glanced at the bathroom door, which was sitting open to reveal an empty room. “I suppose everything is okay.”

Mcnamara nodded, expression suddenly very serious. “I agree.”

Chandler loudly sighed. “If we’re going to be like this for years, can you all not speak in symbolic phrasing?” 

Veronica laughed, strangely relieved that somebody else had acknowledged the eternity of this all. “Of course, Chandler. Duke, tell us about what you’re reading?”

Duke immediately launched into a lengthy explanation of War and Peace, and Veronica sunk back into her pillow, Mcnamara right along beside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry about this being late? I was super sick and then had like five different choir events before break began, and I somehow got all my time sucked into a void. I could have gotten this done still, but I didn't want it to come across too rushed.   
> Anyway, we have now reached the end. I hope this was satisfactory. I kind of ended up throwing out my entire end plan, but I feel like I like this one better.   
> I currently have nothing planned for the future in this fandom, but I really hope to again sometime. This has been fun, and everyone here is super nice.  
> My tumblr is penguinsarebetterthanpeople if anyone ever wants to come hang out or anything. I promise it's fun.  
> As always, thank you all so much for reading, commenting, kudosing, etc. Hope you all have a wonderful holidays.  
> Also I hope that I can figure out how to mark this as complete.


End file.
